


Echo

by kriskringle



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 78,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriskringle/pseuds/kriskringle
Summary: AU. Pre-series. Eight months post-breakup.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: depression

Will can’t make sense of what he’s seeing. He’s 20 feet from his office, ready to put his feet up after a grueling two-hour meeting with Corporate, and now he can’t even sit down because his fucking office is festooned with mylar balloons. They’re red and yellow and green and purple, with the same sequence of letters painted on every one: _Congratulations!_ The collection is easily five feet wide and anchored in the middle by a giant balloon in the shape of a bottle of champagne. He’s utterly mystified, but someone has apparently gone to great lengths to tie the bouquet to the arm of his chair.

Does his assistant - _Emily – Emma – Emmett?_ – whatever the fuck her name is – really expect him to wrestle with those things every time he tries to open a drawer?

“Where did those come from?” he says when she appears at his elbow. She’s new, so he tries to keep the irritation out of his voice. 

“I called the balloon shop,” she says, quick to let him know she’s not a complete idiot and she _did_ read the employee handbook, which states that all gifts to talent have to be verified. “They said they’re from your sister. What’s she congratulating you on?”

“I have no fucking idea.” 

“Oh,” she says, blinking, clearly offended by the expletive he inserted into the middle of his sentence. As she beats a hasty retreat, he vaguely remembers hearing Don saying she comes from a very religious family. Christ, how does she survive in New York?  He makes a mental note to stop cursing so liberally whenever she’s in earshot.

It takes a good 40 seconds of wrestling with the balloons to find the card, which is inexplicably taped to both the string _and_ the neck of one of the balloons. He predicts he’ll be jumping out of his skin at any moment. 

 _Why the hell wouldn’t they tie it to the_ ends _of the strings and why the fuck is his sister sending him congratulatory balloons, anyway?_

There are about 15 layers of tape holding the card in place and when the balloon pops, as it inevitably does, he has the anticipated reaction.

He throws the card on his desk.

Since there’s no way he’s going to be able to work in that chair, not with those balloons floating in front of his face, he shoves the chair into the middle of the room and grabs another one from the adjoining office (the one he’s only recently stopped referring to as _MacKenzie’s_ ).

The card is forgotten until an hour later, when he wanders back in there, reflexively checking his phone and not watching where he’s going. He trips over the chair and narrowly avoids clocking his head on the corner of the desk.

“Emma!” he growls.

“ly – “ she says quietly, appearing beside him.

He looks at her, trying to calm down. “Emily. Can you please get these things out of here? I nearly cracked my skull open tripping over them.” 

“Where should I put them?”

“I don’t give a shit – open the windows and let ‘em go. Deflate them. I don’t care. Just – please get them out of my sight.” 

She nods and miraculously has them untied in under a minute. She walks out of the office, the balloons trailing behind her. 

“Thanks,” he mutters and sits down at his desk. He has zero desire to hear from his sister – and that’s all on him – but he supposes it would be impolite to throw away the card without reading it. And Will McAvoy is nothing if not polite. Or so he tells himself. 

Then again, if he opens the card, he’ll be obliged to call her to thank her and he’s really not in the mood to exchange idle pleasantries. He loves his sister, no question, but they have nothing in common anymore and the thought of having to try to pretend otherwise is excruciating.

He makes a deal with himself. He’ll open the card, take her number with him to the studio and call her right before the show – the perfect excuse to get off the phone quickly.

He tears open the envelope, half-expecting to find a card addressed to his brother (it wouldn’t be the first time she confused their addresses) and it’s only when he reads the first sentence that he knows the card was absolutely meant for him.

_“You’re going to be a father, Billy. I’m due in six days.”_

Although he doesn’t need confirmation - not with the “Billy” - and not with the fact that she’s the only woman with whom he’s ever had unprotected sex, he skips ahead to the signature. 

_MacKenzie._

His knees wobble and he finds himself falling hard into his chair, dropping the card as he goes. He roots around the base of the chair, digging under the rolling wheels to retrieve it and when he finally pinches it between two fingers and brings it up to read the rest of it, a wave of guilt washes over him.

_“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months. Hate me all you want, but don’t do this to your daughter. I’d like you to be here for her birth. Please come. I’m at my parents’ place. You know the number. I love you. MacKenzie.”_

_Holy fuck. I’m going to be a father._

Charlie comes in as Will’s reading the card for the 20th time.

“I just saw Emily carrying your balloon bouquet. What are we celebrating? Your birthday’s not until … Will, what’s wrong?”

Will can’t speak, just hands him the card.

Charlie reads it, then looks up at Will, whose face is ashen. 

“Don’t worry about the show,” Charlie says immediately. “We’ll put Elliot on. Take three weeks. Do you want me to ask Millie to make your reservations?”

Will’s eyes swing up.

“You think I should go?”

Charlie furrows his brow, looking at Will as if he’s an inanimate object that just started speaking. 

“You don’t want to be there when your daughter is born?”

“There’s no guarantee she’s mine, Charlie. What if she’s that asshole’s?”

Oh sure, she’d claimed the affair with her ex had ended two years before she’d made her confession, but she’s not exactly the highest-ranking general in the truth-telling department. Not anymore.

“You can do a paternity test as soon as she’s born,” Charlie says firmly. “I assume you and MacKenzie were intimate up until you broke up eight months ago?”

Will nods.

“Were you using any kind of protection?” 

Why would they? As far as he was concerned, this was it. No more gun-toting Republicans for him. No more brain surgeons, flight attendants or tennis players. He’d found everything he needed in a petite American with a British accent, a narrow view of what constituted ‘news,' a mouth like a sailor, and impossibly long legs.

“No.”

“Then there’s a very good chance she’s yours. Believe me, if there’s even a chance she is, you do not want to miss this.”

Will starts Googling flight times and pulls out his Rolodex but when he finds her parents’ phone number and starts to dial, his fingers are shaking so badly he inadvertently puts the call on speakerphone. By the time he realizes it, it’s too late: MacKenzie’s mother is on the line.

Charlie starts to leave but Will motions him to stay: if MacKenzie knows Charlie’s there, listening, maybe they can keep the conversation short, clinical and to-the-point, instead of having it devolve into a shouting match. Or worse, into a situation where he believes her lies. 

“Penny? It’s Will.” He swallows hard. “McAvoy.”

“Will, thank goodness!” The relief in her voice is palpable. “Where have you _been_?”

“I’m sorry – I didn’t know -“

“How did you not know? She’s been trying to get in touch with you for months!”

He’s always liked MacKenzie’s mother, but he’s obviously on her shit list. Not that he blames her. Exactly. But if they’re splitting hairs, _MacKenzie’s_ the one who burned the whole fucking house down, not him. Then again, he guesses it’s too much to expect the woman to side with him over her own daughter. 

He tries to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. 

“The note she sent today is the first one I’ve read – and I probably wouldn’t have read that either if she hadn’t pretended it was from my sister. I couldn’t read – or listen – I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to ask her to put MacKenzie on the line.

_What the fuck am I going to say to her? “Sorry I’ve been ignoring you, congrats on surviving the stabbing and I hear you’re pregnant. With my baby. What are the odds? Oh, and Charlie’s here, too. Want to say hello?”_

“May I speak with her?”

“She’s not here,” Penny says, and Will feels nothing but relief. Now he can get the story without fear of being pulled back into MacKenzie’s web of lies and without hearing her voice, which will undoubtedly have the same effect it’s always had on him: the loss of all reason.

“Harold is trying to get her to eat, so he took her to dinner. She didn't want to go in case she missed your call, but she's lost five pounds in the last two weeks, so he insisted."

_Trying to get her to eat? Why the fuck isn’t she eating if she’s having a baby?_

He needs to find something to do with his hands, so he picks up a packet of cigarettes and takes one out. He can’t make his fingers stop trembling long enough to light a match, so Charlie steps in, lighting it for him with his lighter.

“How is she?” he says, an inexplicable feeling of dread coming over him. MacKenzie’s mother is terse and on edge and not at all like herself. 

“She’s pregnant and alone, Will. How do you _think_ she is?” 

There’s no mistaking the exasperation in Lady McHale’s voice, and if she were in the same room, Will senses she’d be fighting a desperate urge to throttle him.

_OK, that’s fair. But how is she?_

“Is she alright? Is the baby alright?”

It occurs to him then (because his mind is only processing information at about 25% of its usual speed) that she was _pregnant_ when she was stabbed. The realization makes time and all higher brain function stop. Adrenaline floods his body and suddenly it feels like his heart is beating outside his chest. 

_Fuck!_

Luckily, he's not missing anything on Lady McHale’s end of the conversation: she’s conveniently stopped talking because she suspects he’s gone deaf as well as dumb.

“Will?”

 _Oh, Mac. I’m so sorry – what did I do?_  

“Oh my God, Penny. She was pregnant – in Islamabad -”

“Yes. She was.” There’s more than a hint of accusation in her tone, and Will doesn’t blame her.

“Are they alright? God, Penny – please – say something – are they alright?”

“The baby’s fine. It’s a miracle they both survived, but the baby’s fine. It’s MacKenzie who’s in trouble, Will.”

Despite his steadfast commitment to not caring, his stomach drops at her words.

“What kind of trouble?” he says quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re worried sick about her. We have to force her to eat. We have to force her to get out of bed. We have to force her to comb her hair. She just sits there, berating herself over what happened between you. I’ve never seen her so depressed. We take her to doctor after doctor and no one can do a thing. She can’t sleep and when she does, it’s only because she’s worn herself out crying.”

_Jesus._

“Why? Why is she crying?”

“Because she misses you terribly!” she exclaims, as if he’s as dumb as a rock.

“Fuck,” Will exclaims, followed quickly by, “Excuse me.”

MacKenzie’s mother goes on as if she hasn’t heard him. 

“We’ve let her take the lead on getting in touch with you because we know why you broke up but it’s gotten so bad that if you hadn’t called tonight, Harold was going to fly out tomorrow to confront you.”

“I don’t blame him. Christ, I’m sorry, Penny. What can I do?”

“I know you’re not on speaking terms with Mackie and I know she hurt you terribly, but she’s in trouble, Will. Our girl is in serious trouble.” Her voice cracks and Will hears her take a deep breath. “And you are the only one who can help her. Will you come?” 

He tries to avoid looking at Charlie because he guesses what he’s thinking is probably perilously close to what he’s thinking himself.

 _You did this to her. Christ only knows what this kind of stress and depression is doing to the baby. If you hadn’t run her out of town on a rail, she wouldn’t have fucking gotten stabbed and maybe it wouldn’t have gotten to this point. Maybe she’d be okay. Maybe they’d both_ _be okay_.

“Yes - of course, I’ll come, but … Penny, what can I do? If London’s finest psychoanalysts haven’t been able to do anything, why are you so sure I can?” 

Lady McHale doesn’t even try to hide her exasperation. 

“Because you’re the only one she _wants_. As for what you can do –“

She hesitates. It’s none of her business and she has no right to put this on him, but if she has to spend one more day looking at her daughter’s grief-stricken face she thinks she herself might be in need of mental health services. She wants to string the both of them up – MacKenzie for being so stupid, for confessing something that didn’t need to be confessed, and Will for being so obstinate, so unforgiving, so heartless in the face of her daughter’s pain. She knows it’s a long shot: she knows Will is terribly hurt and terribly unyielding, but she has to try. 

“She needs your absolution, Will. The weight she’s carrying – the guilt – if she could just set it down – maybe things wouldn’t look so bleak to her.” 

Will glances up at Charlie, who’s looking at him meaningfully. 

“Even if you don’t mean it – right now,” her mother continues. “If there’s any way you think you might be able to forgive her in the future - or not hate her – and you could let her know - it would mean so much to her -"

“I don’t hate her, Penny.” Of course, that’s not what he tells himself most nights but her mother doesn’t need to know that. “I just can’t forgive her. I’m sorry.” 

Actually, that’s not true.

He’s _not_ sorry. 

Sorry for disappointing her mother, maybe, but absolutely _not_ sorry for cutting her loose. 

In fact, he’s the _opposite_ of sorry.

Whatever the fuck that is.

He had the only sane reaction a person could have to having their balls ripped off and fed to them for breakfast. And now MacKenzie’s mother’s trying to make him feel guilty about it? Wants him to pretend everything’s hunky-dory just so _MacKenzie_ can feel better? MacKenzie? The woman who laughed at him behind his back for _four months_?! The woman who ripped his heart out, took it with her and left him to a life of misery, unable to let her go but unable to move on, either?

He looks up at Charlie, who’s staring at him, obviously displeased by his last statement.

And now Charlie _– Charlie’s_ trying to make him feel guilty about it? Standing there looking all disappointed – as if he’s disappointed in _him_?

“No, actually I’m not sorry,” Will says, in a completely different tone than the one he was using a moment ago. It’s cold, detached and dripping with disdain and it betrays none of the emotions that are raging just below the surface.

Charlie’s eyes widen and he shakes his head emphatically.

“ _Don’t!_ ” he hisses.

It’s too late. Will is sick and tired of being made out to be the bad guy.

He’s not the bad guy.

He’s _not_.

 _She_ is.

And he’s not going to be some fucking doormat.

“You know what, Penny? _She_ did this. Not me. She feels guilty about it? She _should_. Maybe she’s exactly where she needs to be.”

He hears Penny inhale sharply.

“But that’s not my problem because whatever she and I had – if we ever had _anything_ \- is _ove_ _r_. I’ll be there for the baby, but that’s it. If you don’t think MacKenzie’s capable of caring for the baby, I’ll bring her home with me. MacKenzie can visit when she gets her shit together.”

He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. He waits a beat and then says, “You still want me to come?”

There’s absolute silence on the other end of the line and he has never seen a look on Charlie’s face like the one he’s giving him now: disappointment, anger, disbelief.

He knows he is being a complete asshole right now, but he doesn’t care. He’s tired of everyone trying to make _him_ out to be the devil here. What was his crime? Loving MacKenzie with everything he had?

Fuck Charlie.

Fuck them _all_.

“No,” Lady McHale says quietly. “We’ll let you know when the baby comes. Goodbye, Will.” 

The line goes dead and Charlie just shakes his head. Then he walks out of Will’s office without looking back. 

Will stands there, wondering what the fuck just happened. He let his anger get the best of him and he took it out on a woman who had never shown him anything but kindness. 

He picks up the phone and hits redial.

“Penny – it’s Will.”

She doesn’t respond and he can imagine her standing there, in her sitting room, gripping the phone tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice cracks and he realizes he’s perilously close to tears. “For what I said. I know you’re worried about MacKenzie – and the baby - and I shouldn’t have let my temper get the best of me - ” he plays with the telephone cord, twisting it with his fingers as he tries to figure out what to say. “It’s just – it’s all still a little raw for me. The whole break-up thing. I’m sorry. What can I do?” 

“I don’t know, Will.”

He can hear the disappointment in her voice, can feel it as surely as if she were standing there. He’s disappointed two of the people he respects most in the world today, so it's suddenly very important for him to make her understand he's not a total asshole, and how much MacKenzie meant to him.

“I loved her, you know. I really did," he says. "I’m sorry she’s unhappy. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“At this point, I don’t think you can.”

“That’s not what you said before.” 

Penny hesitates. She's still reeling from what he'd said during their last phone call, in which she'd heard the cold, ruthless side of Will she'd heard about from MacKenzie. She'd been certain MacKenzie had been exaggerating when she'd described the moments leading up to their breakup because Penny simply couldn't reconcile MacKenzie's description of Will with the man she knew. Anyone who ever saw the two of them together knew how besotted he was with her, knew how much he adored her. Although he and MacKenzie had always bickered and sparred, he'd treated her like a jewel, as if he were the luckiest man in the world to have her by his side.

The man who'd spoken to her a few minutes ago, however, the one who'd told her MacKenzie deserved every bit of the nightmare her life had become, was a complete stranger to her and she didn't care for him one bit, no matter how badly he'd been hurt. Although she suspected that hurt had a great deal to do with his behavior, this was the same man who threw her daughter out on the street, who ignored her for months, whose rejection had sent her into a war zone. This was a side of Will she'd never seen and she's compelled to let him know how odious it is.

“That was before I discovered who you really are.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut and he takes a deep breath.

“That’s not fair, Penny. I _loved_ her. I _loved_ her – and she - ” 

She cuts him off. 

“You know what’s not fair, Will? Having to watch your daughter sink so far into a black hole you’re afraid she’s never coming out again. No one’s trivializing or minimizing your pain but the fact remains you are _stronger_ than she is. You are literally the only person in the world who can help her. And you won’t.”

“You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for a woman who betrayed me. How is that fair? 

“It wouldn’t have to be permanent – you can tell her when she’s stronger.”

“Oh and how long will that be – six months? A year? _Five_ years? And then you want me to pull the rug out from under her? That’s pretty cruel, Penny.”

“I want her to **_survive_** , Will! And right now, I’m not sure she’s going to!” 

_Jesus.  
_

Now he’s terrified.

“What are you talking about? Do you think she would try to..." he can't even say it.

"I don't know what she's capable of. All I know is that she's drowning. We've tried everything else, so that leaves you."

"Okay, okay. What do you want me to do?” 

“Pretend you’re trying to forgive her. That will buy us some time.” 

“Alright,” he says. “I’m looking at flights and I think I can make one that gets in at 10:00 tonight. That’s probably too late to come by so I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning. Is 8:00 too early?”

“No. Come as soon as you get in. I don’t care how late it is. She’ll be up. She hasn’t slept in months.”

_Oh, Mac._

“OK, OK," he breathes, utterly terrified. "Tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“No. If something happens and you’re delayed – or don’t show up, she couldn’t handle it. We’ll tell her when you get here.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye.

_Shit._

He starts shoving everything he thinks he might need into his briefcase, cursing when it’s so stuffed it won’t close.

He makes his way to Charlie’s office, hesitates and then knocks. When Charlie bids him entrance, he slowly opens the door. 

Charlie barely looks up from the pile of papers on his desk.

“What can I do for you, Will?” he says icily.

Christ, he really fucked up. 

“I just spoke to MacKenzie’s mother and I told her I’d be there tonight. Can we still get Elliot to do the show for the next few weeks?”

“Yeah,” he says, concentrating on the pile of papers. “I’ll start putting it together.”

“Thanks,” Will says. He starts to go and then turns back around, required to defend himself, to defend his honor. Charlie had no right to try to make him feel ashamed.

“You think I did this to her, right? Well, you’re wrong. She did it to herself. And to _me_. _She’s_ the one who fucked up.”

Charlie snorts.

“Never mind, Will. You need to go.”

Will knows what’s about to come out of his mouth makes him a complete asshole but he is so affected by his conversation with Lady McHale, by reports of MacKenzie’s complete dissolution, by the fact that she was carrying his – hell, _anyone’s_ \- child when she was stabbed, that his brain cells are incapable of running two trains on parallel tracks. Luckily, his typical response to any discussion of MacKenzie McHale is so well-oiled that what he says now was practically pre-ordained. 

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? Are you trying to tell me you don’t have an opinion?”

“Oh, I have one,” Charlie says derisively. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Fine. Here it is. You gave MacKenzie the death penalty for a crime that wasn’t a capital offense.”

“Oh, really? Cheating on the person you supposedly love isn’t a capital offense?”

“Not when it was before you were committed to each other.”

“I was committed to her from Day One, Charlie. Day _One_!”

“Yes, but that was _you_. And after she got herself free of that asshole, she fell in love with you. I know you don’t believe it – or don’t want to believe it, for whatever fucked-up reason, but she loved you. As much as you loved her.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?” 

“Because I have eyes. And it was obvious to anyone who ever saw the way she looked at you.”

“I didn’t think you were that gullible, Charlie. She never loved me. It was all a lie.”

He says it reflexively because it’s the same story he’s been telling himself for months.

Charlie looks at him as if he’s a complete fucking moron.

“Jesus Christ, you’re an idiot. Wake up, Will. _Wake up!_ Before it’s too late. What kind of life do you want to give your daughter? One where she has to shuttle between two parents – a crazy one and an unforgiving one - two homes, two _countries_ because you won’t even _try_ to forgive her mother? You need to start thinking about your daughter. What does _she_ need? What’s best for _her_? Let that be your guiding principle!”

Sorry – that’s too evolved for Will. He’d much rather focus on the matter at hand, which is his starring role as the wronged party in the Lifetime movie of the week, _The Case of the Cheating MacKenzie McHale and the Wronged Will McAvoy_.

“Where do you get off presuming to know the truth? If she loved me so damned much, why the fuck did she cheat on me and lie about it for two years?”

“How the fuck would I know? Probably because she was ashamed and she knew you’d go ape-shit. What I’m telling you is that things have changed. You and your wounded pride are not the important things anymore. Your daughter’s future and MacKenzie’s well-being _are_.”

“So I’m just supposed to shut up and take it so _she_ can be happy? What did I do to deserve that?”

“That’s the thing, Will. _You_ get to be happy, too. Because no matter what you say, you’re still in love with her. You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at that picture of the two of you under the mistletoe at last year’s Christmas party? The way you won’t let anyone else move into her office? The way you go in there when you think no one’s looking and touch the things she left behind? What you had with her was the real deal. She loved you just as much as you love her and _that_ iswhat you need to focus on. Not the shit that happened before she fell in love with you.”

“Anything else? You’ve obviously been saving this up for months.”

“No. I’ve probably said too much.”

“You think?”

“Promise me you’ll go easy on her.”

Will is playing his part and he has to finish it because right now, he has to make it to the airport and find the courage to face her. He has no fucking idea how he’s going to do that, so once again, he sticks to the script.

“Charlie – she’s pregnant – I have no intention of upsetting her. As for anything else, I’ll be there for the baby, but that’s it.“

“Fine. But you’d hurt her less if you wanted more.”

He knows Charlie’s right, of course. What he doesn’t know is what the fuck he’s going to do about it.

He has eight hours to decide.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time he clears customs, calls a cab and makes it to her parents’ place, it’s midnight.

He’s standing on the doorstep, wondering if he should ring the bell, when MacKenzie’s father opens the door.

“Will? Thank God you’re here.” The relief in Lord McHale’s eyes is so pronounced, so obvious, that Will can’t help but wonder what kind of horror show he’s about to walk into. “She told us what happened between you, and I’m sorry, but right now you need to help her.”

Lord McHale opens the door to let him inside, but Will hesitates. “What else do I need to know?” he says softly, in case MacKenzie’s nearby. “Before I see her?” 

“She’s fragile. Please don’t say anything that will upset her.” 

Will nods, and then he hears her voice, soft, lilting and achingly familiar. 

“Dad, who are you talking to?” 

She peers around her father’s shoulder and when she sees Will standing there awkwardly, clutching a suitcase, an overnight bag and a stuffed elephant he got at the airport, she covers her mouth with both hands and bursts into tears. Her mother had been unusually tight-lipped about the conversation she'd had with Will earlier in the evening, insisting it had been incredibly brief and that he'd said little except that he was happy about the baby, he'd asked how MacKenzie was, and that he'd call her first thing in the morning. 

“Billy! You came!” 

She’s so relieved to see him. He’s  _here_. After so many months, so many sleepless nights, so many tears, he’s finally here. Her body responds the moment she lays eyes on him and the magnetic pull he’s emitting, the one she’s been powerless against since the moment she fell in love with him, is trying to drag her toward him, but she knows she can’t have him now, maybe not ever, so she grabs the door jamb to keep herself from trying to fly into his arms.

From the look he’s just now managed to plaster on his face, the one that’s steely and inscrutable, she knows she’d be rejected, anyway. 

Her father raises his eyebrows menacingly at Will, who receives the message loud and clear: _help her_.

Will puts his things down, steps into the foyer and wraps his arms around her. She clings to him as if her life depended on it and he can feel her stomach pressing into him, hard and huge. On the one hand, her current body shape is so materially different that she no longer fits in his arms like she used to, but on the other, the scent of her hair, the feeling of her upper body tucked against his own is so welcome he thinks he too might burst into tears. He’s missed her so damned much. The whole thing is so otherworldly, so fucking bizarre, that he feels like he’s entered a parallel universe. 

Despite the fact that having her in his arms comes as naturally to him as breathing, he stands there awkwardly, trying not to encourage her, trying not to get too close. She betrayed him, and as much as he feels for her, as much as he intends to be there for their baby, he decided on the plane over that even if he can forgive her – and he’s going to try – he can’t risk letting her get too close to him ever again.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Lord McHale says. “Mackie, don’t stay up too late. You have that doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning.”

“What appointment?” Will says, pulling back to look at her and horrified by what he sees. There’s something distinctly _off_ about her – she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks, her eyes are dull and she’s radiating fear, exhaustion and desolation. “I can come with you.” 

“Just a check-up,” she says, staring into his blue eyes. God, how she’s missed those eyes. They’re not looking at her in the way she’d hoped yet but they will. Eventually. They will. There is no other option.

She shakes herself out of her reverie. “I’d love it if you came.”

“OK,” he says, returning her stare. “I’ll be here in time to take you.” 

“Yes – or you can stay over,” she suggests hopefully and she’s biting her lip in the way that used to drive him insane but he steels himself against it. 

“Mac – I’m already booked into the hotel.”

She nods, disappointed, but manages a half-smile.

“Come in. Bring your things.” 

He hauls his baggage inside the door and hands her the elephant. 

“Thank you. She’ll love it. When she knows what elephants are, I mean. I take it you got my message – the balloons?” 

“I did. How are you?” he says, sitting in a chair opposite her. It’s actually a pretty fucking stupid question because it’s obvious she’s barely holding it together.

“I’m okay. Better now that you’re here.” 

It’s true. Although they’ve barely said two words to each other, the fact that he’s here is everything. Until she’d lost him, she’d had no idea what a calming influence Will McAvoy had on her psyche and she hasn’t had a moment’s peace since. But now, sitting across from her, his blue eyes bathing her in warmth, she feels hopeful in a way she hasn’t since – well, since the moment he ejected her from his life.

“Listen, Mac,” he says, reaching forward and taking both of her hands in his. She’s always had the smoothest, silkiest skin (all over) but now her hands are dry and chapped and he wonders what the fuck has happened to her. 

“I didn’t know you were pregnant. You said you’d been trying to get in touch with me for months but I never read your e-mails or listened to your messages. I couldn’t – it hurt too much. I’m sorry you’ve been going through this alone.” 

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

He nods, kicking himself for ignoring her attempts to get in touch with him. If he’d known about it early on, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten to this point and maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here looking numb, slumped and empty, like her pilot light has gone out, with an aura suggesting that no matter how hard he tries, it may not be enough. 

“Your mother said you’ve been depressed. You need to take care of yourself, Mac.”

Her eyes, which used to be sparkling and full of joy, are dull and filled with sadness.

“I know – I just don’t seem to care anymore. I try – but – I don’t care.”

“Why don’t you care? What happened?” 

“I lost you,” she says, and her eyes brim with tears. “Then I tried to lose myself in a war zone but I only lasted long enough to get stabbed. Then I found out I was pregnant. I don’t know where we’re going to live or how I’m going to take care of her since I can hardly take care of myself these days. I feel like I’m drowning, Will. And I’m so alone. That about covers it, I think.” 

“Your mother said you’ve seen psychologists – and psychiatrists – no one’s been able to help?” 

“No. Maybe I’m just beyond help. I don’t know.” She looks down at her hands and he sees her fingernails are bitten to the quick.

“You need to see someone. When we get – if the baby’s mine, we’ll find someone when we get back to New York.” 

“She’s yours, Billy. And since I happen to be fucking crazy right now, you need to not say things like “If the baby’s mine” in my presence. Just put a moratorium on saying that out loud, okay? Because I can’t fucking handle it.”

She takes a deep breath.

“You want us to come back to New York with you?” 

“If she’s – if we’re having a baby together, I’d rather she lived in New York. I don’t want to have to travel to another country to see my daughter. But it needs to work for you, too. I know you won’t have a problem getting work. I’m sure Charlie would even create a position for you at ACN. We can work out custody arrangements later.” 

On the plane over, he’d decided he can’t be vague about his intentions despite what he’d said to Lady McHale. If he is, it will just be a matter of time before it blows up in his face. Far better to get it all out in the open now. 

As he finishes, her stomach – that area in her abdomen currently unoccupied by the houseguest – falls into her shoes. 

“Custody arrangements,” she repeats slowly. “You don’t want to raise her together.” 

“Of course, we’ll raise her together. We’ll just be living in separate places. I think there’s an apartment on the floor below me that’s for sale – “ 

He stops talking then because she’s shaking her head furiously, as if what he’s just said is somehow a hundred times worse than the other thing she ordered him not to say. 

“You don’t want us to live with you.” 

“Mac, I’m thrilled about the baby, but it doesn’t change what happened between us. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m not. I promise I’ll take care of you both.”

He can’t stand to see the pain in her eyes, but he also knows he can’t trust her and he can’t pretend otherwise. 

“Besides,” he says slowly, wanting to get this out there before she gets the wrong idea. “I’m seeing someone.“ 

_You’re …. what?_

She looks at him as if he’s just awakened from a coma speaking Mandarin. Then all he sees is shock, pain and a devastation that’s so primal, so raw, and so horrific that he wants to look away. 

He watches as it turns to pure anger. 

 _Are you fucking kidding me? You’re with someone? How could you, Will? How could you?_  

She cannot be in the same room with a Will who has a girlfriend who isn’t her and because her already extremely tenuous self-control is starting to slip, she knows she has to get rid of him. 

_Now._

“You need to leave, Will,” she says, standing up and looking down on him. Her voice is thin with fury. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you in my life. I don’t want you in the baby’s life. You need to _leave_.”

He sits there, berating himself for being so stupid, but all MacKenzie notices is the fact that he’s still sitting there at all. 

_Why the fuck are you still here?_

“Leave!” she shouts, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

_Fuck. So much for not upsetting her._

“MacKenzie, calm down,” he says, standing up and trying to grab her hand. 

She slaps his hands away as her parents come rushing in. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“What is going _on_?” her father says. 

“Will doesn’t want me, so he can just get the fuck out of here. _Right now_!”

“MacKenzie!” her mother says, looking from her daughter to Will for an explanation. 

Since he’s the one who screwed things up, Will feels obliged to reply. 

“I told her we’d find a place for her and the baby in New York and that we’d raise her together but not - not … as … a couple.” 

“Yes, because he’s _seeing_ someone!” 

“That’s not why, Mac,” he says, and finds himself getting angry. 

Why the fuck is she trying to pin this on him? If she hadn’t fucked up, they’d be in New York right now, getting ready to welcome their daughter together, fighting over names and which color to paint the nursery. 

They’d be _happy_. 

“ _I_ didn’t do this, MacKenzie,” he says, unable to stop himself. “ _You_ did. Don’t try to act like some innocent victim here.” 

“William – “ her father says in warning, but Will can’t stop because suddenly everything’s at the surface and boiling over. 

“You cheated on _me_. You betrayed _me_. You broke _my_ heart. Don’t act like you don’t know why we’re not together.” 

He gets hold of himself long enough to see Lady McHale shaking her head and he knows he’s fucked up - royally.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to upset - I should go – I’ll be back to take you to your appointment.”

“I don’t want you to come with me. You should go back to New York, Will. I don’t want you here.” 

“MacKenzie – be reasonable.” 

“I stopped being reasonable when the man I love threw me out over something I did before we were serious. Or maybe it was when I got stabbed. Or maybe it was just now when I found out the father of my child is _fucking_ someone else!” 

“MacKenzie!” her mother says. 

She's completely unhinged but he’s not letting her off the hook.

Not now, not _ever._  

“If we can’t come to an agreement between ourselves, we’ll have to get the lawyers involved.” 

“I guess we will. You should go,” she says flatly, the anger suddenly gone. She just wants him to leave so she can disappear into the dark, grey cloud that’s filled her head, the one that makes her feel like everything she experiences is unimportant, flavorless, empty, and not worth the effort, but Will obviously has other ideas.

“No. I’m not going to miss – if that baby is mine, I’m going to be there when she’s born. I’m sorry you’re upset, Mac but you can’t just throw me out of her life because you don’t like the way things are going.” 

She knows she’s about to take a match to whatever’s left between them but she cannot live in a world in which she and her baby live downstairs from the man who belongs to her. She thought she could co-parent with him but she now knows, without a doubt, that she can’t do it. She can’t see him every day and watch him move on with someone else. It will destroy her. Just the _thought_ of it is destroying her now.

She has to finish it.

“Look, Will,” she says, forcing herself to look at him and trying to tamp down the rising hysteria that’s threatening to choke her. “I’m sorry - I lied. She’s not yours. She’s Brian’s.”

“MacKenzie!” her father says.

Will slowly gets to his feet, toppling over his chair as he tries to back away from her.

“You are unbelievable.” Will says as he picks up the chair, sets it squarely on the ground and looks at her with absolute contempt. Which crushes her even more. 

“Do not _fuck_ with me, MacKenzie.” he says, his voice low and deadly. “We’ll find out who she belongs to when we do the paternity test.” 

“We’re not doing one. You need to leave.”

“We’re doing one.”

He wipes his eyes angrily and stares at her.

_Did he ever know her at all?_

“William, I think you should go. You’re staying at the Savoy? I’ll take you.” Lord McHale says.

“It’s alright – I can get a cab.”

“No,” her father insists. “I’ll take you.”

Will turns back to MacKenzie.

“I’m not going back to New York until this is settled, Mac. I know you’re upset, so I won’t go to the appointment with you tomorrow but I want to be there when she’s born. And if you try to deprive me of that, I will never forgive you.”

“Add it to the long list of things you’ll never forgive me for, Billy. I don’t want you there.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

He heads for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

She's so tired. She's just so fucking tired of the whole thing. Of having to do this on her own. Of being alone. Of missing him. Of foregoing the completely restorative sleep she got every night in his arms.

As he heads for the door, all her internal alarm bells are going off, letting her know that this time, she's gone way, way too far. So far that if she lets him leave thinking there's any chance the baby isn't his, that she was actually seeing Brian Brenner towards the end of their relationship, there will be no way back for them. Ever. Not that there will be anyway, she reminds herself.

She's angry, devastated and utterly alone, but that doesn't give her the right to keep him from his daughter. Or to keep their daughter from her father. She can't do it to either one of them. So be it. She's practically dead inside, anyway. What does it fucking matter?

She rubs her fingers across her eyes and once again feels them fill with tears.  
  
"Will, wait," she calls out. Her voice is hollow and empty. "Please wait."

He doesn't turn around but stops at the front door.

"She's yours," she says, deflated. "I'm sorry I said that. I shouldn't have. I won't keep her from you…and … you have every right to move on. I don't know what the fuck is happening to me. It's just that everything hurts so much … and I can't make it _stop_."

She's overcome with a wave of emotion that's the polar opposite of the emptiness she's generally stuck with and when Will turns around, he sees her dissolve into gasping, heaving sobs. The pain is so raw it makes his own eyes fill with tears.

Shit. What is he supposed to do? This can't be good for the baby and he's literally the only one in the world who might be able to turn this around. Goddamn it. He sighs, lets go of the door handle and walks back into the sitting room.

MacKenzie is doubled over (as best she can be), crying so hard she's gasping, as her mother rubs her back and looks up at Will pleadingly. There are tears in her eyes, too and Will nods, letting her know he'll take over. She quickly gets out of the way and Will takes her place beside MacKenzie and loops an arm over her shoulder.

"Mac? It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

Her head jerks up at the sound of his voice and when she looks up at him, there is so much sadness, so much grief in her eyes that he can't help pulling her against him and she can't help burying her face in his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Billy - I'm so sorry I said what I said. I won't keep her from you. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's just that everything hurts so _much_."

"It's going to be okay. I promise."

"It won't be," she says dully. "It can't be - I don't think anything will ever be okay again." She can't tolerate the humiliation of letting him be the first to pull away, so she forces herself to disengage from his arms. She gets up, puts a shaky hand on the end of the couch to steady herself and says, without looking at him, "You should go. One of us will call you when it's time to go to the hospital. Thank you for coming."

"MacKenzie -" He has no idea why he's trying to get her attention because he doesn't owe her a goddamned thing - not after the shit she just pulled - not after saying _his_ kid was that asshole's, but he does it anyway, because she has always moved him, whether he wanted her to or not.

"Just go, Will. Please," she says, without looking back. "Goodnight Mum, Dad."

She heads into the adjoining room. Will hears her turn on the TV and watches as she settles herself as best she can on the couch. She's so tired. She wishes she could go to sleep but she knows it's impossible. She hasn't been able to sleep for months, her mind a steady whirl of unpleasant thoughts that keep her awake.

As she thinks about what just happened, hot tears leak from the corners of her eyes. She lost him again tonight but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Not anymore. She closes her eyes against the sound of the TV and the sounds coming from the other room but apparently she doesn't deserve any rest because her mother has followed her in there.

"MacKenzie - you are not going to spend the night in here again! Go to bed!"

"It's fine, Mum. Goodnight."

"You need to sleep!"

"I won't be able to, so why bother? Go to bed, Mum. I'll see you in the morning."

Her mother sighs, throws up her hands and exits the room.

MacKenzie closes her eyes and when she hears another set of footsteps padding into the room, she opens them to see Will standing there, looking concerned and more than a little lost.

"What do you want, Will?" she asks, and because it's impossible to look at him without wanting to feel his arms around her, she turns her face towards the back of the couch. She isn't surprised to feel hot tears leaking from the corners of her eyes once more. She's cried so much over the last eight months, she's surprised she has anything left.

"I'm not trying to be cruel," she says, speaking into the back of the couch, "but it hurts having you here. It really fucking _hurts_. Please just go. _Please_."

He kneels on the floor beside her and reaches for her hand, slung low over her belly.

"Mac, I'm not trying to hurt you -" he tries again.

"But you _are_ , Will," she says, interrupting him. She opens her eyes and forces herself to turn her head toward him. Maybe if he sees the pain in her eyes, he'll get his ass out of here. "Whether you intend to or not."

She reluctantly pulls her hand out of his because having him touch her in any manner other than the one for which she longs is only going to deepen her psychosis.

"Look, I know you're tired and upset and I'm sorry," he says, "But we need to talk. About what's going to happen after the baby's born."

She sighs. Despite the fact that she's lost half her marbles, she _has_ given that some thought.

She'll have a better chance of getting back on her feet here, where she'll have a network of people to rely on - her parents, her sisters and brother, along with their families. She knows things will devolve fairly quickly if she and the baby are marooned in New York, with only Will and his girlfriend for company.

"We'll stay here until I can get my head screwed on straight and figure out what we're going to do. You can visit whenever you like. I won't stop you. All I ask is that you come alone because I can guarantee seeing your fucking girlfriend is going to send me straight around the bend again. I'll bring the baby to New York sometimes, too. I'll stay in a hotel while you have your time with her."

She squeezes her eyes shut against the image of huddling alone in a hotel room while her man and his girlfriend squire her daughter about town.

Will is having similar thoughts because his conversation with Charlie is ringing in his ears.

_A broken home with two fucked-up parents. What a shitty, shitty way to come into the world. She should be coming home to a house full of love. And she's not going to get that with a grudge-holding asshole for a father and a lunatic for a mother._

"What would it take for you to feel better, Mac?" he says suddenly. "To drag yourself out of the shithole you're in?"

He's the first person in the last eight months who's had the courage to ask her that question, to imply that her craziness is just a blip on the screen rather than a life sentence. And it makes her love him all the more. Unlike her family, who assumes she's too fragile to hear anything, Will's always assumed she's strong enough to handle the truth.

"Hope for the future. A good night's sleep."

"What do you need from me?"

He says it sincerely because he can't get what Charlie said about taking the long view out of his head but she doesn't take it that way because she's tired and grief-stricken and crazy and the last thing she needs is for him to act as if he actually gives a damn about her or has any intention of giving her what she needs.

_Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I'm actually going to give you an honest answer, only to have you tell me to shove it - or worse - to throw it in my face?_

She knows she's being irrational but she's powerless to stop it. Not now that she knows he has a girlfriend, not now that she knows he's completely moved on from her.

"You want an honest answer? Or are you just looking for one that will let you off the hook so you can go back to your girlfriend?"

"Off the hook? For _what_?"

"For ignoring me for the last eight months! For treating me like I was a piece of garbage!"

"What was I supposed to do, Mac? You -"

"'… _betrayed me_ ,'" she parrots. "I know. You should have it embroidered on a fucking pillow."

He laughs. He can't help it. No one has ever insulted him the way MacKenzie McHale does, and no one has ever taken him less seriously than MacKenzie McHale does, which is why he loved her from the moment she criticized the first script he'd ever shown her. "Well, Billy, I'll say this for it: it inspires the range of emotions from A to B." She'd had the balls to say it to _him_ , someone thirteen pay grades above her, someone she'd just met. From that moment on, he was a goner. And it was one of the reasons he used to think she was fucking made for him.

"What's so funny?"

"You are. God, Mac. We're having a baby and all you can do is spew vitriol at me."

"I don't have a choice. You don't want me, but you won't fucking leave. You know what, Will? I've been crying my eyes out over you for months, thinking I'd ruined the best thing that ever happened to me, but I've been delusional, throwing my life away over yet another man who never gave a damn about me."

Christ, she _is_ delusional. And she's got a lot of nerve.

"What are you _talking_ about? You think I didn't give a damn about you?" he says, getting to his feet and towering over her. "Are you serious? I loved you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life! I had a ring. I wanted to marry you!"

The words are torn from his throat, mean and ugly.

Shit.

That was loud, he thinks, and is reminded once again by how very un-alone they are. Her parents are sticking close by and while he doesn't blame them, it's awkward as fuck, since he and MacKenzie have always had a tendency to fight - and make up - loudly and passionately. He notices the sliding doors separating this room from the other one, so he walks over casually, trying to pull them closed but Lord McHale is there immediately, stopping him.

"Dad," MacKenzie calls from the couch. "Let him close the doors. We're fine."

"The doors stay open. Will, I know you're upset, but do not yell at my daughter."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

Will goes back to her, embarrassed, and stands there, staring at her, waiting for her to refute his unassailable logic.

She doesn't miss a beat.

"Well, that love must not have been very deep because you wouldn't even let me explain! Don't you dare tell me you were madly in love with me, Will. If you had been, you wouldn't have thrown me out like a piece of trash. Like I was nothing!"

"What was there to explain? You cheated on me! End of story!"

"You _made_ it the end of the story, Will! It didn't have to be!"

"What is it that you want, MacKenzie?"

"I want you to believe the truth about what happened between us! The objective truth."

He doesn't want to hear it because he knows that if you're willing to enter into a person's private thoughts and see the world the way it appears to them, you run the risk of being changed yourself. Unfortunately, Charlie's voice is in his head, telling him to take the long view.  
  
"What I did had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with me," she says. "He treated me like crap, as if I was an idiot, which felt normal. You treated me like a queen, as if I was supremely competent, which was completely at odds with how I saw myself, and I didn't trust it."

He rolls his eyes. She _was_ supremely competent.

"And then I fell in love with you. I never looked at Brian or any other man after that because I was deliriously happy. And when I got the feeling you were thinking about marriage, I was thrilled. But I wanted us to start out on the right foot, with no secrets between us, so I told you. I was so fucking stupid, Will, because now here we are, instead of where we should be, which is back in New York, getting ready to welcome our daughter, together!"

_Well, that's one thing we can agree on, Sweetheart. If you hadn't spilled the beans, I'd never have known and God, I wish I'd never have known._

Would hearing that explanation then have made any difference? He's fairly certain he would have kicked her out regardless, so committed was he to marinating in his own pain. But what about now? How would he respond _now_ , eight months later, with a bit of time and space between them?

 _The long view, the long view_ , he hears Charlie saying. Christ, as much as the man's voice has been in his head tonight, he should just get him on the phone.

"Okay. Okay. Let's pretend you're telling the truth right now."

"Pretend? How _dare_ you -"

"Really? You're gonna act all outraged because I questioned your veracity? Give me a break," he says. "Listen. I'm going to pretend, _assume_ \- whatever fucking verb you want to use - that you're telling the truth because we need to get past this shit and focus on what's happening in six - five days from now. Okay? So I'm going to ask you my question again, and I'm asking it sincerely. Because this isn't about you or me anymore, this is about what's best for our daughter. _What_ do you need from me to get better?"

She looks at him steadily. 

"I think you already know the answer, Will. But I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for me."

"Oh, really?" he snorts. "That's news to me. Should we get _that_ embroidered on a fucking pillow?"

"Oh, fuck you. Yes, _really_. You'd have to come back willingly because you know what they say," she says, looking him straight in the eye and wishing they weren't so very far apart. " _Real love doesn't involve one person clinging to another; it can only happen between two strong people_.'"

"Oh, bullshit, Mac," he scoffs. "You're one of the strongest people I know. You may be a few sandwiches shy of a picnic right now, but it's just temporary."

She laughs. In spite of herself, she laughs.

"I hope you're right, Billy."

"I am. Think you can get some sleep tonight?" he asks, eager to put this day behind them.

"Probably not. But I'll be fine. You should go."

She actually wishes he _would_ leave because despite the surface insults they're hurling at each other, it's a whole other story at the molecular level. She's practically dying for his touch and every moment she spends in his presence is making that desire grow to biblical proportions.

As usual, however, Will latches on to something else.

"When did it start? The insomnia?"

He remembers her mentioning something about having trouble sleeping when she was a teenager but she always slept well with him. Always.

"I've had it all my life."

"Why didn't I know how serious it was?"

"It wasn't a problem when we were together."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. But for the first time in my life, it just wasn't."

She needs him to know that being with him had always been something special, even when she'd been unsure about their longevity as a couple because he would surely discover she was a fraud. He'd always made her feel so loved, so adored, that sleeping with him - and making love to him - had always been pure joy. They'd always fit so well together - in every way.

"Sleeping with you was like being in a warm cocoon, Will. I felt safe and content and completely protected from the outside world."

He'd never slept half so well as he had with her, either - before or since.

Fuck. Why does hearing her say that make him want to do that for her again? To _be_ that for her again? She needs to sleep. They both do. His head aches and he's tired and emotionally spent and he knows they're only one innocuous remark away from another screaming match. He has no idea what he's fucking doing but he hears himself saying, "Come on, Mac. Let's go to bed. You need to sleep. Let me help you do that and we can finish this conversation tomorrow, when we're both thinking more clearly."

 _Is he insane?_ she thinks. He might as well be a box of chocolates and she a choc-o-holic: one night in his arms is too many and a lifetime isn't enough.

"No, I can't. I can't spend one night in your arms only to have you ditch me tomorrow."

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to ditch you, Mac. We're in this together. For life, okay? Maybe that's what Charlie was trying to tell me."

"Charlie?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow but I'm exhausted and I know you are, because you look like you've been dragged through a hedge. Your parents must be exhausted, too."

"Are you saying you forgive me? That you want to try again?"

 _Is_ that what he's saying? How the hell could that possibly be what he's saying? And why the fuck _doesn't_ it seem like the worst idea in the known universe? He must be losing his mind. But she doesn't need to know that.

"That's quite a leap, Mac. Look. You need to sleep and I can help with that, so let me help with that."

"No. Do you think one good night's sleep is worth the pain of losing you all over again in the morning? No fucking way, Will. If you sleep with me tonight, you're sleeping with me for the rest of your life. Are you willing to make that commitment?"

"You've got a lot of nerve, MacKenzie. You want a lifelong commitment from me when you can't even tell the truth for five minutes? When you just tried to tell me my own kid belongs to someone else?"

She turns her face towards the back of the couch again and feels the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes once more. He's right. Does she really expect him to trust her?

"You're right, Will. What I did was inexcusable. I'm sorry. Please go."

She says it as if she's utterly without hope, utterly defeated, and an internal battle rages within him: _She hasn't slept in months, she has major depression and she was fucking stabbed - while pregnant, so maybe, maybe you can overlook it. Just this once. OK, twice, but who's counting?_  Which is swiftly countered by,  _Why the fuck are you so willing to make excuses for her? She can't be trusted._

He sits down on the floor again and runs his fingers through his hair. They have to get past this. Through this. On their way to … somewhere. He has no idea where exactly but the clock is ticking.

What is he supposed to _do_?

"Goddamnit, Mac. Can't you see I'm in an impossible situation?"

His hands ball into fists and then he's up and on his feet, pacing the room like a caged tiger.

MacKenzie's parents look from one to the other, ready to spring to their daughter's defense if need be.

"You wanna know something?" he says, stopping in front of her and demanding her full attention. She gives it to him, reluctantly: she has no idea what he's about to say but she's fairly certain it's not going to be complimentary. 

"I had no doubts about us when we were together. _None_ ," he says. He stares at her when he comes to the next part because he needs her to understand just how much she meant to him. If only so she can see just how fucking impossible this whole situation is. For _him_.

"You were smart, funny, a great newsman - beautiful, everything. The whole package and then some. You were everything I ever wanted in a partner and a bunch of things I never even knew I wanted. I adored you, MacKenzie. I fucking _adored_ you."

She doesn't want to hear how much he'd adored her (past tense), or to be reminded of just how much she'd thrown away, but from the look on his face he's just getting warmed up, so she may as bloody well get comfortable.

"I had it all planned out," he continues. "I bought the ring, I was going to ask you to marry me, I thought we'd have a couple kids and I would spend the rest of my life worshiping you."

 _Worshiping_ her. He'd planned to spend the rest of his life _worshiping_ her. All she can do is try to hold back the tears, especially since she suspects her infidelity is up next on the playlist. She uses both hands to grip the sides of the couch, trying to brace herself against it.

"And then you burned the whole fucking house down with me in it. And I thought, _Well, shit, it was all a_ _lie_. Which meant that my judgment wasn't so hot. Because I never thought - in a million years - that you, annoyingly ethical MacKenzie, would lie to me. About anything. Let alone something like that."

 _Will you get to the fucking point, Will?_ she wants to say but doesn't.

"But then I thought, _Hey, I'll never see her again and I'll get over it - someday. Eventually, I won't be walking around feeling like my heart's been torn out of my chest._ But apparently, I am nowhere _near_ over it because everything I've been telling myself for the last eight months - how I'm better off without you - how you never loved me - how it was all a lie - blah, blah, blah - all that shit went out the window the second I saw you tonight. 'Cause all I could think was,  _There she is! The other half of my fucking **soul**! I can live again."_

"Then my brain kicked in and I thought - it doesn't matter what you feel. You can't trust her."

She doesn't want to hear this - obviously - but she forces herself to because clearly, he needs her to. And she deserves it. And hopefully, eventually, he'll get to the fucking point.

"And you know what? It didn't take 15 minutes for you to prove that theory correct. 'Cause that's when you pulled that shit about the baby not being mine. So tell me what I'm supposed to do here, Mac."

He stops in front of her again, as if he's seriously asking her that question but what can she possibly say? What can she possibly do to prove that he can trust her again when she can't even trust herself?

"Christ," he says, pounding his fist into his hand. "Do you have _any_ idea what I'm up against? _Do_ you?" he says. 

He's looking at her with a mix of anger and desperation and he's _trying_ to put a padlock on his feelings, he's trying to do what he used to do when he'd help her with those panic attacks - breathe in slowly, breathe out deliberately, steady, _steady_ \- but it's not fucking working, so he starts moving again, trying to expel some of the energy that's eating him alive.

When he comes to a stop in front of her again, the agitation is pouring out of him, and the word 'beseeching' comes to mind - as if he's _beseeching_ her to set him free. With a promise never to lie again? With a promise to let him go? She has no fucking idea what he needs; she just hopes she's strong enough to give it to him.

"I feel like I'm being torn in _half,"_ he says, as if that explains everything. And maybe it does. "You know why? Because no matter what you do, no matter what kind of shit you pull, I am _still_ in love with you." 

She gasps.

" _Yes._ It's true,"he says angrily.  _"_ And there's not a goddamned thing I can do about it." He shakes his head, amazed at his own stupidity, at the fact that there is apparently nothing she can do that would be enough to make him stop wanting her. "What does it say about me that even now, after all the shit you put me through, all I want to do is kiss you senseless? You just told me my child belongs to someone else, Mac. My _child_. How the hell would that have played out if you hadn't admitted you were lying? Would I have ever known? Would you have just let her grow up without knowing I was her father? Would you have done that to her? Would you have done that to _me_?"

"No! God, Will, of course, I would have told you! I _did_ tell you. Immediately!"

He glares at her. "So you did. But the fact that you were willing to lie about it at all ... well, that's a pretty big red flag - a pretty serious breach of trust, don't you think?"

"Yes," she whispers. 

"And that's the thing. That's the  _thing_ , Mac. How am I supposed to live with myself knowing I'll take any amount of bullshit because I'm in love with you?"

Her eyes fill with tears. She brutally, impetuously, carelessly, thoughtlessly hurt a man who loved her more than anyone ever had because she couldn't get out of her own head long enough to see that her words and deeds had consequences in the real world. She does not deserve forgiveness and yet not 15 minutes ago, she was demanding it. How could she have been so blind? So fucking self-centered? Yes, he still loves her, but it's against his will and against his better judgment, so it's hardly a victory. And if it is, _he's the loser._ Because he's in love with someone he can't trust. And when she thinks about it objectively, rationally, why the fuck would he? Why would  _anyone_  in his position? 

"I don't know what I'm supposed to _do_ here, Mac," he says, running his fingers through his hair. "If I let bygones be bygones, what's going to happen the next time something doesn't go your way? Are you going to run off with some guy? Join the circus? What's it gonna be? What kind of shit storm are you going to rain down on my head the  _next_ time?"

He asks the question earnestly, heatedly, because he has a decision to make and he has no idea how to make it. He's standing in the pitch black of night, with two paths in front of him and nary the moon nor a goddamned street lamp in sight. He just doesn't know what he's supposed to _do_ here. The only thing he knows for certain is that it's all on him and he _hates_  that - the fucking injustice of it all. He was a good boyfriend. He was a _good boyfriend_. He loved her with everything he had. His only mistake - _maybe_ \- was that he came on too strong in the beginning. But haven't other people done that? Haven't other people been so over the moon about someone they couldn't contain their zeal? Did _they_ deserve to get the shit kicked out of them? For being madly in love? And yet somehow it's on _him_ tomake the impossible choice?

He guesses it fucking is. He takes a deep breath and tries to master his emotions.

"I want what's best for the baby," he says slowly, seriously, as if speaking the words aloud will help him focus on what's important. "I don't want her to grow up in a broken home." He looks at her then because no matter what he fucking decides, she has to be right there with him, because it's her child, too.

"I want her to grow up in a house full of love and laughter, which is what we used to have before you torched it." He says the last part matter-of-factly, without rancor, because it is what it is and they have to get through this somehow. He stops and looks down, considering.

"Maybe we can have it again," he says, almost to himself. "I don't know." And then his eyes are swinging back to hers and he's looking at her so earnestly it breaks her heart.

"But is a doormat a great role model? I love you but I can't trust you. So what am I supposed to _do_ here, MacKenzie?" he says in frustration but he's also pleading because he is literally at a loss. "What am I supposed to _do_? What would _you_ do? If you were me?"

She is so fucking ashamed of herself that if she didn't currently weight 1,000 lbs., she'd be hiding under the couch. At least that way, she wouldn't have to look into his eyes and see the devastation she's wrought because he truly does look devastated and conflicted and torn and God, he didn't deserve what she'd done to him, when she'd thoughtlessly, heedlessly, carelessly, selfishly hurt him so badly. What can she possibly do to make it up to him? To prove that she can be trusted? 


	4. Chapter 4

She tries to sit up, but she can't quite manage it because she's front-heavy and no longer seems to have a center of gravity, but Will's hand is out before she's even had a chance to fail.  
  
She takes it gratefully. "Thank you," she says. When she's upright, he tries to let go of her hand but she squeezes it tightly and he looks into her eyes.

"Sit with me?" she says. He nods and sits down gently beside her, carefully, leaving a good 12 inches between them. He doesn't let go of her hand, though. His is warm and solid and the weight of it in her palm, so familiar and so welcome, is bringing her perilously close to tears.

She turns to face him, wincing when her back moves but her pelvis doesn't. She shifts in her seat, trying to find a position she can tolerate and when she does, she looks up at him and takes a deep breath. He's staring at her intently, apprehensively.

She swallows hard and looks at him.

"I owe you an explanation. For what I said about the baby not being yours. There is no excuse for what I did but I want you to understand how it happened, so I'd like to tell you what led up to it. Is that okay?"

He nods.

"I was so happy to see you just now - elated. God, I haven't felt anything close to that in months. I've missed you so much. Being with you. Talking with you. Having you close by. And even though we aren't together, the second I saw you I felt more alive - more hopeful - more _whole_ , I guess, than I have in ages. And when you suggested we live downstairs from you, and told me you were seeing someone, I just couldn't believe it. I was devastated. And all I could think was that that I couldn't live like that. I couldn't be that close to you again without being allowed to touch you. I thought I couldn't survive watching you build a life with someone else, seeing you raise our daughter with someone else. I knew I'd never be able to endure it."

Devastation to the point of annihilation. He gets that.

"So I tried to think of something that would get you out of my life. So I didn't have to face it every day. So I could survive. Which was utterly and completely selfish and indefensible…I know. So I used the baby's paternity. I didn't stop to think about what I was actually saying, or that the only thing I was doing by saying it was proving that you couldn't trust me. It wasn't premeditated, but it doesn't matter. Because I know better. Anyone over the age of 12 knows better. I'm so sorry."

He nods. He believes her. But what's going to stop her from doing it again?

"I know I don't have any right to say this but I have to," she says. "I _love_ you, Will." Her voice cracks and since everything in the world is riding on this moment, she stares hard at him, trying to make him see how much he means to her. "More than I've ever loved anyone in my life. And I want you - in the worst way. But I meant what I said - I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for me. I want you to be happy. Whether it's with me or without me."

He raises his eyebrows again. _Really,_ Mac?

"Really," she says, as if he'd spoken aloud. "You need to do what you need to do and I will accept your decision." She takes a deep breath and squeezes his hand more tightly. "But before you make it, I'm asking you to give me one more chance to prove that what we have is worth fighting for and that you can trust me. I am never going to lie to you or keep anything from you again. Ever. For the rest of my life. You have my solemn vow."

_What if she can't stick with it?_

_What if she can?_ another voice pipes up. 

And just like that, he can feel himself being reeled back in. Because he _wants_ to believe her. If he can believe her, if there's _any fucking way at all_ he can believe her, he can have what he wants, which is to return to the best time in his life. He was just so _happy_ with her. Doing the news, doing the dishes, doing nothing, arguing, whatever. _Happy_. He was at peace. Completely in love. Completely content.

Can he have that again? After everything they've been through, can they have that again? He wants to believe it's possible. More than anything else, he wants to believe it's possible. He searches her eyes for signs of insincerity but there are none: they're the eyes of the MacKenzie he loves, clear and discerning. It's the first time he's seen them tonight.

"I know you're seeing someone," she says haltingly. "And I don't know how long you've been seeing her or how serious it is or whether you love her - and frankly, I don't want to know because this has to do with you and me and what we can have together. With our daughter. Which is something pretty fucking spectacular. We were so happy together, Will. Do you remember?"

He nods. 

"We can have that again. You know we can."

He closes his eyes, thinking. What is he supposed to _do_? This is the MacKenzie he loves: steady, warm, loving, solid. God, he's missed her. He thought he'd only imagined her but she's here now, ready to be what he needs.

He thinks about Erin, the woman he's been seeing. They've been together for two months and when she told him she loved him a week ago, he couldn't say it back. He might have been able to say it pre-MacKenzie because he wouldn't have had anything to compare it to, but when he thinks about the meaning of the word "love," as an expression of the deepest feelings one can have for another human being, its definition has been forever changed. There's a new marker for that emotion - a new depth - and he's never felt it for anyone but the woman sitting next to him. Now, anything less than that doesn't warrant the use of the term.

Could he get there eventually with Erin? He doesn't fucking know. His heart is still so full of _her_ that there's very little room for anyone else but is he going to ruin his chances with someone solid and trustworthy on the off-chance the woman who ripped his heart out is willing to change her ways? It doesn't make a lot of sense. Then again, is he prepared to spend the next God-knows-how-many-years keeping MacKenzie at arm's length when all he wants to do is _be_ with her? Will _he_ be able to endure having her in his life yet not being able to touch her?

He knows he has a decision to make but he also knows he doesn't have a choice. Maybe it looks that way - on paper - but in the real world? No fucking way. If he gives her up but is forced to interact with her every day, he's condemning himself to a life of longing for her from afar. No matter who the fuck he's with or how much he cares for them, he knows he's going to feel that irrepressible, ferocious tug, that magnetic pull that drags him toward MacKenzie. He knows that every single time he sees her, fireworks will explode across the surface of his heart. He knows that whenever he looks into her eyes he's going to want to drown every fiber of his being in her body. And if she moves on with someone else? There's no fucking way he'll be able to stand it.

He opens his eyes again and sees MacKenzie's are full of tears, so he leans in to kiss her on the forehead. She closes her eyes, resting her head against his lips, trying not to move, trying not to do anything that will make him think she's trying to influence the outcome and then he's moving again, sliding his lips down a fraction of an inch, opening them against her skin.

And then he's pulling back, silently willing her to open her eyes, to look at him, to really _look_ at him so he can see into her soul. It's the only way he'll know whether she's telling the truth.

She opens her eyes and stares into his, willing him to believe her, willing him to believe in _them_.

"Can I trust you, Mac?" he whispers, staring at her with an expression that is so naked in its intensity, so filled with apprehension that her heart starts hammering in triple time. "I need you to be _completely_ honest with me," he says. "Can I trust you?"

She doesn't hesitate.

"Yes, Billy. _Yes,"_ she says fiercely. "You can trust me. I will never let you down again."

 _Okay_ , he thinks. He guesses that settles it, then. Considering he doesn't actually have a choice. Because now that she's no longer an unwelcome memory, now that she's right here beside him, corporeal and warm and beautiful, he wants her. As much as he ever did. Because she's his other half and he has never felt one-tenth of what he feels for her for anyone else. But he doesn't say anything; he simply exhales slowly and leans in to press his lips against her forehead once more. She feels him breathe her in and then his lips are moving down again, slowly, slowly skating down the bridge of her nose. He kisses the tip, pulls back a little and when she feels his index finger beneath her chin, she opens her eyes.

Her breath is caught as she returns his gaze. He's made his decision. He wants _her_.

She wants to burst into tears but she's able to hold them back until he takes her hand and places it against his heart. The tears flow freely then and then he's closing his eyes, bending down and pressing his lips against hers, sending a paroxysm of joy throughout her body. He kisses her slowly, deliberately, utterly sensually and she tries to hold back, tries to let him take the lead but she feels too much for him and is too overcome with joy to be anything but an active participant.

She threads her fingers through his hair, caresses his scalp with light fingertips and gently explores his mouth with her tongue, drinking him in. He moans into her mouth and then his hands are in her hair and he's kissing her hungrily, greedily, desperate to get closer to her and then he remembers where they are, that they're not alone, and that he shouldn't be doing this - not yet - not when there's someone in the world besides MacKenzie McHale who thinks Will McAvoy is her boyfriend. He stops suddenly and when she opens her eyes he's breathing heavily, his eyes dark with desire and … guilt.

At that moment, his phone rings.

He takes it out of his pocket and she sees a woman's face flash on the display. She's blonde and pretty and smiling and looks … _nice_ and MacKenzie feels terribly ashamed because she's just spent the last minute seriously making out with the woman's boyfriend. Who was hers first, but still.

He quickly pulls away from MacKenzie and accepts the call and she wobbles a bit, loses her balance and starts to tumble back against the arm of the couch, but before she can hit her head, Will grabs her and settles her against the back of the couch.

"Sorry - you okay?" he asks MacKenzie. She nods and motions for him to answer the phone.

He props it against his ear and greets his caller. "Hey."

"You're on FaceTime, Will," Erin answers. "You don't have to talk directly into the microphone."

 _Fuck_.

He moves the phone to his face. "God, Erin, you know I hate this shit. How do I turn it off?"

"Just roll with it, Hon. I wanted to see that smile."

MacKenzie wants to vomit. 

"How are you?" he says to the image onscreen, wondering where the fuck he can disappear to get some privacy. It's raining cats and dogs outside so he can't go out there. He starts raising his eyebrows at MacKenzie and tilting his head in an attempt to get her to join her parents in the other room but she can't take that chance. She can't risk letting this woman - lovely and nice though she may be - talk him out of it.

"Who are you gesturing to?" Erin says, and he realizes she can see him. He is far too fucking old to be allowed to use these types of devices.

He sighs. "MacKenzie."

He puts his hand over the phone.

"Mac - can you give me a minute? And close the sliding doors behind you?"

She hesitates. Although she's not completely heartless, she simply can't risk it. How the fuck is she going to get him to allow her to stay in the room? It occurs to her then that she promised she'd be honest with him and so she must be. "I can't, Will," she whispers. "I can't risk it."

"Risk what?" he hisses.

"Why are you whispering?" Erin says.

"Letting her talk you out of it," MacKenzie says. "I'm sorry. I can't," she whispers, her eyes welling with tears.

"She's not going to -"

"Please, Will. I can't."

He looks to the heavens. "God give me strength," he mouths.

He glances back down at MacKenzie. "Okay," he whispers. "Have it your way." He heads for the other end of the room to sit in a chair, his back to MacKenzie.

"Wait a minute. Did you say _MacKenzie_? As in MacKenzie fucking McHale?" Erin exclaims.

"The very same," Will says.

"What are you doing with her?" she says, her voice low and deadly. "Where are you?"

"London. Look, Erin -"

"What's going on, Will?"

"She's pregnant. With my baby. She's due in five days."

" _What?_ And you're just telling me this _now_?"

"I didn't know. She's been trying to get in touch with me for months but I didn't listen to any of her messages or read any of her e-mails. She finally got through today, so I flew over and we're trying to figure out the logistics."

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Is she still in the room?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She's afraid you're going to try to talk me out of it."

"Out of what?"

"Erin, I know how shitty this is and I am truly sorry but I don't want the baby to grow up in a broken home. We're going to raise her together. As a couple."

"A couple of what?"

"MacKenzie and I are getting back together. I'm sorry."

" _Why?_   Why are you doing this? She _cheated_ on you!"

"It's not that simple."

"So you're sacrificing yourself for her. She fucks you over but she gets the brass ring, anyway. And for the record, I don't give a flying fuck that she can hear me right now," she says loudly.

"Erin, there's a lot more to Mac than the cheating and I'm not sacrificing myself for her, but this isn't a conversation I should be having with you."

"You're making a mistake."

"Actually, I'm not."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. I'm sorry, Erin. Really."

"I thought we had something, Will."

"We do - we did - but it wouldn't have lasted. I didn't know that until tonight but ... I do now."

"Because you're still in love with her."

"Yes."

"Well, a nine-months' pregnant cheater _is_ an irresistible combination."

"Erin - I'm sorry."

"Whatever. Goodbye, Will. And congratulations."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

He hangs up and turns back to MacKenzie. "Sorry you had to hear all that."

"I don't blame her. I'm sorry she's hurt," MacKenzie says. "I know exactly what it feels like to lose you. But I do have to ask...did she make you doubt it?"

He sits down beside her, puts his finger under her chin and brings her head up.

" _It_ as in  _us_? Nope. I love you, Mac. I feel better than I have in a long time. About eight months, four days and 14 hours, to be exact."

"It's that easy? For you to put the past behind us? You were so angry, Will. How could it be that easy?"

"I don't know but a lot of it just went away the second I kissed you. Because that's what's important, right, Mac? The way we _feel_ about each other? I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you and to tell you the truth, it's awfully close to being drunk."

She raises her eyebrows at him.

"It's true. You make me feel woozy," he says, leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. "Giddy," he whispers, trailing his lips up to just below her ear. "Warm." He nibbles on her ear eliciting a soft, delighted sigh, and then he rests his forehead against hers. "Sappy." He pulls back and stares into her eyes. "And I have _missed_ that. So if I get to have that again, and you promise not to burn the house down, I'm going to be pretty damned happy. Will you be? Is that enough to make you happy?"

"So long as you still plan on spending the rest of your life worshiping me, yes."

"Oh, I will. You can count on it."

"So you're a free man?" 

"I am."

"You were," she says. "You belong to me, now. In perpetuity."

He can't help grinning. There's relief in surrender.  
  
"It's a deal," he says.

He helps her off the couch and then she's standing in front of him, looking up. He bends down to kiss her gently on the lips and she melts into him.

"Where were we?" he whispers in her ear.

"I think you were just about to take me to bed."

"That sounds about right."

He loops an arm around her shoulder and they start to head up the stairs but she stops in her tracks, needing to check in with him. He did, after all, just break up with his girlfriend.

"Are you sure you want to sleep over? I don't want to be presumptuous - if you're upset - about -"

"Erin?"

"Yes."

"I am upset," he admits. "She's a good person, Mac. Funny. Solid. Smart. I ... really didn't want to hurt her."

"I know. Are you wishing ..." she hesitates but has to ask. "Are you wishing you were with her instead of me?"

"No. I lost my heart to you before I ever met her. This - being with you - was inevitable the second I found out we were having a baby."

"So if we _weren't_ having a baby, you wouldn't want to be with me. You'd rather be with her."

"Mac, I thought I was never going to see you again and I didn't want to spend the rest of my life alone, so I started dating. Doesn't mean I didn't miss you, though. "

"Yes, but if you had your choice, you'd be with her." 

"If I had my choice, you never would have cheated on me and we would never have broken up in the first place. Are you really going to nail me to the cross for trying to move on with my life?"

"I want you to actively want me, Will - not be with me just because we're having a baby."

"I do actively want you but I wouldn't even _be_ here right now if we weren't having a baby. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that information, Will."

"You want me to say that I would have come regardless, that I would have chosen you because I couldn't live without you, but we both know that's not true. I _could_ live without you, and even though I wasn't all that happy, I had no intention of ever seeing you again. Those are the facts, Mac. Doesn't change the way I feel about you or the fact that I'm happy about the baby and that we're together. I'm _happy_ , Mac. Can't that be enough?"

"No, Will. It isn't enough. I want you to want to be with me."

"I _do_ want to be with you. I wanted to be with you before but it wasn't an option and I'd resigned myself to my fate."

"That's the thing, Will. It was _always_ an option. But you didn't love me enough to come after me."

"It _wasn't_ an option, Mac. Not the way I looked at what happened. Only something momentous was ever going to change that and it did. And I am thrilled." 

She's silent. 

"Mac - "

"Why couldn't you have just said that eventually you would have come to your senses and come after me? That's all I wanted to hear. Was it really necessary to ensure that I knew, without a doubt, that it was never, ever going to happen?"

He sighs. 

"Because I forgot that you require constant reassurance. You're right, Mac. Maybe I would have come around - eventually. I missed you like crazy, so maybe I would have. Who knows?"

"I require constant _reassurance_? I simply want to feel you're with me by choice and not by obligation!"

"No, you want me to sugarcoat things, which I'm happy to do - and will do - from now on. I just forgot for a second. Mac, I love you. Can we stop thinking about the past and focus on the future? Who cares why we're here? We're _here_. And I intend to make the most of it. Starting with the whole worshiping thing."

She decides to let it go. She'll nail him to a cross another day.

"You'd better - especially if you want me to forget about the last three minutes."

"I will. I promise. How should we start? What do you want?"

"I want you to help me get to sleep. And I thought … maybe I could do the same for you."

She bites her lip in the way that drives him crazy and unlike a few hours ago, he's free to lean down and kiss her, which he does. Twice.

"I'd love that. But what are we talking about here? Do you mean a massage or …"

"I'm hardly in a position to give you a massage, Billy. If anything, you should be giving _me_ one. But there are other things we can do..."

"Like ...?"

"Pretty much anything else - I have to be on top or on my side, but other than that we're fine."

The words "on top" and "on my side" and all that they imply are all he needs.


	5. Chapter 5

Will trails behind MacKenzie as she leads him to her bedroom. Memories of the last time he was here wash over him; her parents had been out of town during the first two days of their visit, so he and MacKenzie had spent practically the entirety of them in bed.

Everything is the same, except for the addition of the change table and the diapers and the onesies and all the accoutrements she's been gathering in preparation for the birth of their child. He should have been doing that with her - for her - and once again, he's beset by guilt that she's had to carry this burden by herself.

She points him towards the door.

"If I'm really going to try to sleep, I should have a hot shower, " she says. "You can use the other bathroom, Billy, then make yourself at home. I'll be back in a minute."

He nods and heads for the other room.

In the bath, MacKenzie turns on the hot water and gingerly steps into the shower, grabbing on to the sides to steady herself. She quickly turns the spray away from her breasts, which are so heavy, large and sensitive these days that almost any friction is painful. She idly wonders if Will's mouth will feel the same, whether his tongue will soothe instead of sting and whether he'll enjoy getting a mouthful of milk for his trouble after the baby's born. She intends to find out.

Inexplicably, an image of Erin flutters to the surface and MacKenzie once again feels guilty. She hopes Erin is okay. After all, she was in her shoes not three hours ago and knows exactly how it feels to lose Will McAvoy. But he's in her room (or about to be), waiting for her, and she still can't quite wrap her mind around it. When she'd sent the balloons she tried not to get her hopes up, tried to tell herself there was no fucking way he'd ever be back in her bed, but he is, and she can't wait to feel his hands on her. She longs to feel him inside her, to close the distance between them, especially the great divide that opened up - at least on her end - when he told her he had planned never to see her again.

What kind of person makes such a plan when they love someone? If the shoe had been on the other foot, she imagines she'd have tried to be friends with him - to keep him in her life because he meant so much to her. Why wasn't it the same for him? How can he say he loved her if he never wanted to see her again for as long as he lived? And why the fuck did he have to tell her? She never needed to know. But now she can't un-know it and it makes her wonder if he's always going to hold what happened against her. Hell, if he's secretly going to be longing for Erin. By the time she's finished with her shower, she's furious. She gets out, angrily slathers her body with lotion (she _is_ going to close the distance between them and there's no sense frightening the poor man with calloused hooves), shrugs on her robe and stalks into the bedroom.

Will hops out of bed to greet her. "Hey, Sweetheart. Feeling like you might be able to sleep?"

She's momentarily taken aback when she sees the expression on his face. He's obviously delighted to see her (either that, or he's been thinking about Erin) because the look in his eyes is soft and dreamy, which annoys her even more. How can he stand there making googly eyes at her when up until this morning, he had planned never to see her again so long as he lived?"

"What kind of person makes an actual plan to never see the person they claim they're in love with for the rest of their life?" she snaps.

"Mac…" he says, pulling her against his body and kissing the top of her head. Despite her anger, she's missed him so fucking much she can't help wrapping her arms around him. "No more, Sweetheart," he says soothingly. "Not tonight. We can set the alarm and I will gladly take whatever it is you want to dish out tomorrow morning but no more tonight."

She pulls back to look at him. "I want to _know_ \- "

"I know you do, and I will tell you, but the dark circles under your eyes are the size of coffee coasters and you need to sleep."

He leans down to kiss her forehead and when he dips his head to nuzzle her ear, it is simply not within her power to suppress the moan that escapes her lips. She's not mad at him anymore - well, not _as_ mad - she's fucking on fire for him - but he seems only to want to lull her to sleep.

"You are so tired, Sweetheart, _so_ tired. Please let me help you sleep."

She knows he's concerned and trying to give her what he thinks she needs, but the tone of his voice, as if he's talking to a wayward child, makes her dig in her heels. She wants him, no question, but where does he get off thinking he can condescend to her and when did she start thinking it's no more than she deserves? Eight months ago they were equals. Now she doesn't know what they are but she can't let it continue. The clock is ticking. They don't have time to fuck around anymore. Not with a baby on the way.

She backs away from him.

"I'll sleep when you give me what I need, Will. You're here and we're together but so much has happened and we're so far apart. I don't want to be."

He suppresses a sigh and looks at his watch. They've spent the last eight months apart and have been back together exactly … 37 minutes. What the hell does she expect? Of course they're far apart. He doesn't say that though, because he knows what she's _really_ asking is, _How do **you** intend to bridge the gap?_ because, as usual, it's up to him.

He's actually way ahead of her because he's got some sleep-inducing techniques up his sleeve that definitely qualify as bridge building. That said, he doesn't want to get too cocky, so he decides to check in with her - he's already put his foot in his mouth about 20 times today and the last thing he wants is to piss her off.

"What can I do?"

She wraps her arms around her shoulders, her expression guarded. "I want you to convince me that what you feel for me is real because it sure doesn't feel like it."

Great. A vague, inexplicit gauntlet thrown down with no clear definition of what 'winning' might mean. 

"MacKenzie - I _love_ -"

"You keep saying that, Will, but I'm not feeling it. It feels like you love the _old_ me. The person I was when we were together. Or some idealized version of me. I don't know what the fuck you feel for the current me - the _actual_ me - the me that did what I did."

She starts to pace.

"Let's face it. An hour ago you were with Erin and lecturing me about my misdeeds and now you're about to jump into bed with me. What changed? It doesn't make any sense."

She's right - in a way. They are absolutely rushing into this and although it briefly occurs to him that they should take this slow, that they should not be moving at the speed of light when it comes to resuming their relationship, everything about this evening has been rushed and the clock is ticking and she needs his reassurance and being this close to her _always_ makes him irrational and  _always_ makes him want to have his way with her, so fuck it. He's going to make love to her tonight, no matter how impetuous it may be.

"God, Mac. Do we really have to do this tonight?"

"Yes."

"Fine," he says, running his fingers through his hair. "What _changed_ is that I decided to listen to you instead of the 12-year old inside my head."

"What are you talking about?"

"I made a promise to myself when I was a kid that I would not put up with anyone lying to me - for any reason - and if they did, they'd be out of my life so fast their head would spin."

She looks at him in confusion.

 _When he was 12?_ She's been suffering under the weight of a personal credo he established before he hit puberty? 

"Because of my dad," he says by way of explanation. "You know how he is. He lies - about big things, little things, in-between things, and then he's all contrite and promising it will never happen again. We'd all believe him and then whatever shit he pulled would happen again and again and again. My mother had to forgive him because she was trapped but it turned her into this…"

He struggles to find the word to convey exactly what his father's behavior turned his mother into but his vocabulary is limited so he uses his old standby.

"…this _doormat_ \- so sad and so defeated. I swore I wouldn't let that happen to me. So when someone lies to me today, I have this - I don't know - _visceral_ reaction that brings up all this shit from my childhood. And it will _always_ do that to me, Mac. _Always_."

He needs to get what he's about to say out there. He's not trying to be mean or vindictive or threatening but he needs to know that he can trust her or he will not be able to move forward. 

"Which is why you should know," he says slowly, carefully. "That if you ever lie to me again about anything important, we're done. _Done._ Because I can't fucking handle it. Can you live with that?"

"We'll need to draw up a list, then, Billy, of what's acceptable and what's not. Other than that, I'm okay with it."

He breathes a sigh of relief. Good. At least they're on the same page.

"Having said that, when you told me about what happened with your ex, I should have given you a chance to explain because what does a 12-yr old know about context?"

If he'd been more evolved, less beholden to the 12-year old, perhaps he would have been able to _hear_ her when she'd told him she'd had the affair before she was committed to him. If he'd actually heard that, if he'd actually been able to absorb the weight of her words, maybe everything would have been different.

"Part of me wanted to listen, to see if we could salvage what we had. But the 12-year old wouldn't let me and I was in too much pain to challenge him. Which is why I'm so fucking glad you got through with the balloons today."

He looks at her steadily.

"I _wanted_ this, Mac. I wanted you back but my pride - and the 12-year old - never, ever would have allowed it."

Well, that puts a slightly less devastating spin on the fact that he never would have come after her. It wasn't because he didn't want to but because he felt he couldn't.

But what about his girlfriend? She can't stop the nagging doubts that are telling her that maybe, maybe, he'd rather be with her.

"What about Erin?"

 _Do we have to go over this again?_ he thinks.

She's standing there, looking at him expectantly, so he guesses they do.

He sighs.

"You act like my relationship with her was written in the stars. Erin and I have been out together like 10 times - tops. She's a lawyer and she works days, and I work nights, so there was never any time."

"But you care for her. If it weren't for the baby, maybe you'd grow to love her as much as you say you loved me."

"Look, what I had with her was nothing compared to what I had with you. It wasn't even in the same universe. You and I were together for 2 ½ years, Mac. 24 hours a day. We lived and breathed each other. And I never got tired of you. Never. I was always delighted to be with you - always."

"Do you love her?"

"No. She told me she loved me last week and I couldn't say it back because I remembered what I felt for you. How deep it went - how it reached into the soles of my feet."

He looks up at her, embarrassed. "How I was so full of it I felt like it just poured out of me."

_Oh, Will. Lovely, sweet, tender Will._

He smiles, then shrugs sheepishly.

"That's what love is to me, now, Mac. And I have only ever felt it for you."

"Really?"

"Really."

He kisses her and she can feel herself starting to relax, so she leans into him. She still has one more question for him, though - about the past - because she can't be held hostage by it. He has to be willing to put it behind them.

"What about what happened between us?"

"What about it?"

She pulls back to look him in the eyes. She needs him to understand that the way things have gone tonight cannot be the new status quo.

"I let you unload on me tonight and I took it because you needed to get it out but that has to be the end of it. When we wake up tomorrow morning the past has to be dead and buried because it's over and done with and we have more important things to worry about. I need to feel like I can count on you and I can't do that if I'm always waiting for you to throw the past in my face."

That's all well and good for _her_ but what about him? He'd like nothing more than to forget the past, starting with the day she confessed, but she can't legislate amnesia - not when what happened is still biting him in the ass every single day.

"I want to leave the past behind, too, Mac, and you're right - throwing it in your face isn't going to do shit for us." 

"But I don't think it's fair for you to tell me we can never go back to it because I'm going to be living with it for a long time."

He has to make her understand. Even though he's completely committed to making this work, he's still dealing with the fallout and he predicts he will be for some time.

"Listen - I never doubted anything you told me the first time we were together because I didn't know I should. Now I'm going to be questioning everything you say - if you tell me a pen is red I'm going to turn it over 25 times to make sure it is. And I think anyone in my position would do the same."

She nods. She's not thrilled with the news but she can't blame him.

"I don't know how long that's going to last or what it will take for it to stop but I'll do my best not to mention it when it's happening. What I can tell you is that I want this and I'm committed to making this work. Can you live with that?"

"Yes. That's fair."

"Aside from not throwing the past in your face, do you need anything else from me?"

"Yes - we need to be equals, Will. I feel like the balance of power has shifted and I hate it."

"What are you talking about?"

"As much as I love you, as much as I want you, I'm not going to spend the next forty years with a man who acts like he deserves a medal for putting up with me. We were equals before and we have to be equals again. I need you, but not as my keeper and not as my patronizing, judgmental lover. I need you as my partner."

He's ready to defend himself until it occurs to him that by doing so, he'll only be proving her point. He takes a deep breath instead and tries to objectively consider what she's saying. She's right, of course - he has been treating her as if she were an unruly child. That hasn't been his intention - exactly - but he can certainly see how she'd view it that way. He's fairly certain his diatribe about putting up with her bullshit because he's so in love with her didn't help.

"You're right, Mac," he says brushing her hair back from her forehead. "I'm sorry. What can I do?"

"You can prove to me that what you feel for me now is real and solid and something I can count on."

"How?"

She doesn't know. What she needs is something amorphous. She doesn't know what form it will take or how he can actually deliver on it; all she knows is that she needs to feel it from him.

"I don't know but I'll know it when I see it. Or feel it. I need to know you're in love with the current me - not just the old one."

Another vague, nebulous challenge. Can't she just fucking spell it out for him?

He takes a deep breath and tries to get in touch what he's thinking - _feeling_ \- whatever. Now that the anger, the defensiveness, the wounded pride and the pain is mostly gone, what's left is what he's always felt for her: that unearthly connection. There's no accounting for it, no explaining it. It just _is_. He feels it instinctually, in the gut, in the heart -- it manifests in his body, not his brain. He can't rationalize why he feels that way - he only knows that his body is far wiser than his brain could ever dream of being.

He remembers the first moment he felt it, when she'd insulted his script. His nerves had exploded just from making eye contact with her and all of a sudden, his heart was aflutter and his palms were sweating. He was a hot mess: completely turned on and unable to form complete sentences. His body was vehemently telling him that he wanted her _in every fucking way_. It was involuntary, immutable and irrefutable. He had no choice in the matter then, as now: he was compelled to dive in, to test those waters (or at least endlessly fantasize about testing them those first few months until he got up the nerve to ask her out). And when he finally did, it was everything he'd imagined and then some. It had stayed that way, right up until the end. Which is amazing, really, because isn't that kind of infatuation supposed to fade away fairly quickly?

Now, three-and-a-half years later, he feels the same. It's deeper now but she moves him and touches his soul in a way no one else ever has. No matter how trite it is, no matter how sappy it is, being with her just makes him feel _whole_. Like the world has suddenly righted itself. He decides then and there that he's not going to question it or put demands on it. He's going to revel in it and he's going to show her that she can count on him because she can. He's come a million miles in the last 12 hours and he's happy - no _elated_ \- to be here.

He looks into her eyes and tries to think of what he might do to eradicate the doubt, the fatigue and the uncertainty he sees there. In the end, he does the one thing he thinks might be able to convince her where words have failed: he reaches out, cups her cheek with his hand, draws her closer to him and presses his lips against hers.

He kisses her so soulfully, so tenderly, that she'd fall down if he wasn't already propping her up. It's the way he used to kiss her, full of passion, desire and unrestrained hunger. She stares into his eyes and sees no anger there, no doubts - just desire and adoration. Present tense.

_There it is. Thank God. There it is._

She returns the kiss fiercely, desperate to be as close to him as she can and then his tongue is parting her lips and he's exploring her mouth and it's gentle, languid, as if he has all the fucking time in the world, which he absolutely does not because It's 2:00 AM and they need to get to bed so she slides her hands up his chest, grazing his nipples and then reverses course, letting her hand slide down his chest to his abdomen. She slowly, deliberately makes her way to the elastic of his shorts and his breath quickens as she reaches in, delicately takes him in hand and is gratified to hear a desperate moan escape his lips.

"Mac, honey, please. Bed." he demands, breathing heavily, his eyes focused, intent and alert.

She ignores him, stroking her prize, thrilling at the weight of it, the feel of it in her palm. This is the instrument that put a baby in her belly. The thing that has never failed to bring her to a fever pitch.

"Fuck, Mac."

He gently tugs her robe off one shoulder and when it falls, revealing a breast that has been completely transformed, he stares, riveted. It's enormous and her nipple is larger than it's ever been. His eyes swing up from her chest to her face and even though she looks exhausted, she's still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

A bit more of her robe falls open and he sees her abdomen, hard and huge. He can't help thinking with some prehistoric pride that she's pregnant with _his_ child. He did that to her. And fuck if he doesn't want her as much as he ever did. He gently places his mouth on the exposed nipple, soothing it with his tongue. The pleasure goes straight to her core and she can't help but cry out.

" _Billy_."

" _Bed_." he demands again.

She allows him to lead her there. He sits down, ready to take her in his arms, and she allows the other section of her robe to fall open. That's when he sees the scar, pink and puckered and angry-looking. It's just below her ribs, and right above the swell of her abdomen. He slowly looks up at her, appalled.

"Oh my God, Mac," he whispers. "It was so close - she could have - you both could have -" he can't finish, horrified by how close he came to losing both of them.

"It was early days, Will. She was no bigger than a kidney bean and the knife missed my uterus by ¾ of an inch. She was safe."

"3/4 of an inch? You call that safe!?" He doesn't know why he's yelling at her, maybe because it's easier than yelling at himself. He did this. He sent her into a war zone, pregnant, and it's only a fucking miracle that she and the baby both survived. If either one of them hadn't - no. He can't go there.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to yell."

"It's okay." she says. He leans against the headboard, opens his arms and she settles into her old spot against his chest.

She's had many months to come to terms with how close the both of them had come to dying and she knows him too well not to see that's he's taking the mantle on himself, blaming himself for almost getting them killed.

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. I chose to go. I didn't know I was pregnant when I accepted the assignment - I didn't find out until I was in the hospital - but I certainly knew I was putting myself in danger. It was a relief, really. To know that I might get my just desserts."

His mouth opens, astonished, and utterly horrified.

"Tell me you didn't do it on purpose, MacKenzie. Tell me you didn't put yourself in harm's way because of _me_."

"No. I just wanted to run - somewhere - anywhere - where I wouldn't see you on TV or risk running into you on the street. When I realized exactly how dangerous the situation was, though, it was a little bit of a relief to feel the external hell I was living in was perfectly aligned with the internal one going on in my head. I was so sorry I hurt you, Will. I couldn't stand it. I was in so much pain, I just wanted to disappear. I'd ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me because I believed the words of a man who belittled me, who told me I was stupid every chance he got. He said there was no way a man like you could love someone so devoid of personality and that the only reason you were with me was because I was a good lay. When I got stabbed, I couldn't help thinking I deserved what I got."

What an _asshole_. If she had so little self-esteem, maybe it's no surprise she'd listened to him.

"Mac, no. Those were lies. I did love you. I did."

"And now?"

"I love you more. I'm so sorry I didn't let you explain," he says, stroking her hair back from her forehead. "You're still going to see someone, right? When we get back to New York?"

"A therapist, you mean?"

"Yes." He nuzzles into her ear as he thinks about what he wants to say. He's fucking _worried_ about her but he knows he has to tread carefully.

"I think it would be good to help you process everything that's happened in the last eight months, and maybe to talk about what happened with that asshole. I can't stand the thought of you feeling so insecure you'd believe his lies or put yourself in danger or spend the last eight months not wanting to get out of bed. You are a star, MacKenzie Morgan McHale, a beautiful, competent, amazing woman and I'm sorry if I ever had a hand in making you feel any different."

"You did, though," she says, suddenly annoyed that he's trying to put this on her, like she's defective for allowing herself to be brought so low, when no one else in her position would have felt otherwise. Maybe they wouldn't have high-tailed it off to a war zone, but anyone in their right mind would have been has devastated as she was.

"If you think I'm so fucked up, Will, tell me this. How would a "healthy" person have reacted to being thrown out like yesterday's trash?"

"Mac - I'm not trying to upset you - just forget I said anything."

"No - you obviously have an opinion as to how I should have reacted - what should I have done?"

"I think that if you'd had more self-esteem you would have told me to fuck off. And when you found out you were pregnant, you would have shown up on my doorstep, forced your way inside and demanded that I hold up my end of the bargain. And then you would have walked out with your head held high and shown me what I was missing."

"You mean I would have played hard-to-get. I did walk out of your life, so don't pretend you'd have shown up voluntarily if I'd played my hand differently. You wouldn't have, as you made perfectly clear earlier. You've had eight months to discover what you were missing and the only reason you showed up here tonight was because we're in crisis, not because you suddenly figured it out. And if you ever did come to that realization on your own, it would probably only have been after you were married to Erin and gotten her pregnant."

"OK, maybe you're right, but I'm talking about your self-esteem, Mac. The fact that it's so shaky you'll believe what anyone says about you instead of having a core sense of who you are. That's what I'm worried about. You believed the asshole when he told you you were an idiot, you believed me when I told you you weren't and when we broke up, you believed it when I told you you couldn't be trusted.

"None of us creates our sense of self in a vacuum, Will. We all let the opinions of others influence us. Now you're blaming me for believing it when you told me I couldn't be trusted? For taking it on myself? Isn't that being responsible? Taking ownership of your part in something?"

"Yes, but you took it a step further. You didn't just take responsibility - you believed it about yourself and let it influence your decisions - like not eating and not taking care of yourself."

"I was depressed, Will! The love of my life threw me out and decided he never wanted to see me again! You know what? You've been deluding yourself. You don't love the real me - the one who's insecure and anxious and worried - you love the persona I assumed when we were together!"

_Jesus fucking Christ._

"A _persona_? Sorry Kenz, I'm not buying it - you can't fake competence."

"No, but that's just one part of my personality, Will! I want you to love all of me - not just the competent parts! And you don't! All that bullshit you were spewing about being madly in love with me? You're just attracted to me!"

"What's love, MacKenzie? Isn't attraction a big part of it? Of course, I'm attracted to you! Is that a crime? I also love you - I did everything in my power to make you happy. I wanted to be with you all the time. For two-and-half-fucking years you were the only thing that mattered to me. If that's not love, what the fuck is?"

"That's  _infatuation_ , Will. Love is actually giving a damn about what happens to the other person!"

"Like you gave a damn about me when you were cheating on me with your ex?"

Shit. He's already broken his promise not to throw it in her face.

Then again, it's not the morning.

Yet.

"Here we go again," she says, throwing up her hands. "That's a false equivalency, Will. I didn't love you then."

"You're right - here we go again," he says heatedly, "...with you claiming I never gave a damn about you."

"Yes, you gave such a damn about me you didn't even call or visit me when I almost _died_. Hell, even _texting_ was too much work! That's love alright."

Christ. Here he was, planning to make such sweet love to her that she would have no choice but to fall asleep, _blissfully_ , so she can get the rest she so desperately needs, and here she is, going for the jugular. Yes, he should have fucking gone to see her when she got hurt but it didn't mean he didn't care! He sobbed for three nights in a row until Charlie told him she was going to be okay.

"I made reservations to fly to Landstuhl and right before I got on the plane Charlie told me you were going to be okay and I chickened out."

_That helps, but it's not nearly enough._

"What are we even doing here, Will? You don't want to be with me. You don't really love me. If you did, you wouldn't have planned never to see me again for as long as you live!"

"For Christ's sake, MacKenzie, are we really back to that again? I do love you and I do know what the fucking word means but clearly, I keep pissing you off, so can we just stop talking? Will you let me show you how I feel, please? I give you my word that I am finished with you, there will be no doubt in your mind."

"Fine. Go ahead and convince me. What do you want to do?"

"I want you to take that fucking robe off, lie back and just relax, okay? Christ."

She does as he asks and turns on her side, facing him.

He dims the lamp, strips, gets into bed and turns to face her. He takes a deep breath and wills himself to relax. This is about her. What she needs and what he can give her.

Tentatively, she reaches out her hand to touch his cheek and he leans into it, then turns his head slightly to kiss her palm. Then he reaches his own hand out, gently stroking her shoulder and down her arm.

He inches closer to her and presses his body against hers. He kisses her softly and then, because he can't help it, because being so close to her _always_ makes him want to say exactly this, he breaks his vow of silence. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Billy," she whispers and as they kiss, she feels some of the tension leave her body. She's sleep-deprived, hormonal and borderline hysterical and she hopes he doesn't hold the last five minutes against her; she _knows_ he loves her, past, present and future tense, so she's not sure why she keeps demanding proof. She can see it every time he looks at her and she can certainly feel it now, as he kisses her, so tenderly, so lovingly, so sweetly that she wants to cry. As she feels him nip at her lower lip and feels his tongue exploring her mouth, she tries to focus on what she knows to be true about this man and what they mean to each other, about the thing that exists between them that allows her to feel so grounded, so _centered_  in the world. He's her foundation, her source of strength, and she's going to have to continue to rely on him until she can figure out why she's been unable to be that for herself these last eight months.

"I love you," she says again, unable to help herself because what she feels for him runs so deep, is now so integral to her, that it just flows out of her, demanding to be heard. 

As they kiss, each of them is trying to prove to the other that what they have now, in this moment, is exactly what each of them wants and that each of them is exactly where they need to be. Neither of them knows why their tempers flared so hot, so fast, so they spend this time trying to erase the hostilities of the last several minutes.

He's trying to make this all about her but having her next to him and feeling her tongue in his mouth and her hands in his hair is making him hotter and hotter and harder and harder, so he breaks their kiss to concentrate on the task at hand. He kisses his way down her neck and across her beautiful breasts and latches on to one of her nipples and when he starts suckling steadily, she moans above him and threads her fingers in his hair. He gently starts stroking her clit and she's hot and so wet and while he wants nothing more than to bury himself inside her, this isn't about him, so he concentrates on suckling and making her cry out with pleasure, which she does, over and over again. She bucks her pelvis into his hand and he removes his mouth from her nipple and starts to move down her body but she grabs his head, stopping him.

"What are you doing?" She asks breathlessly.

"Lie back. I'm going down on you. Is that okay?"

"No - I can't lie on my back and I need to kiss you when I come. Just use your fingers and get up here, Billy. Please."

He does as he's asked and she doesn't know what the fuck is happening to her body but she is hornier than she's ever felt and even if she wishes like hell he was inside of her, it feels so good to have his hands on her, so right to feel his tongue in her mouth, so sweet to feel his glorious cock in her hand that within minutes she's reaching the point of no return. She falls apart around his fingers and as she does, she screams into his mouth because it feels like a full-body orgasm. He does his best to muffle the sound but he would not be surprised if she woke her parents. They should have gone to the hotel.

She kisses him fiercely and he's going to explode if he doesn't come soon, so he tries to excuse himself to go to the bath where he can jerk off in peace but she stops him.

"Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom - I need -"

"It's okay. Finish inside me," she says, turning over so he's facing her back. "Can you get inside at this angle?"

"Are you sure it won't hurt the baby?"

"It's fine - just be gentle."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm _sure._ I need to feel you inside me, Will. Please - just do it. I need you."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He presses himself against her back, reaches between her legs to find her opening and when he slips inside her, they both moan in relief. He reaches around to finger her clit and starts to move in short, shallow, steady strokes. God, it's wonderful to be inside of her, to feel her hot, slick walls around him again. He presses his lips against her back, opens his mouth to taste her and slowly swirls his tongue against her skin. He keeps his movements slow, deliberate and methodical, trying not to jostle the baby, trying to keep his rhythm and trying desperately not to give into his desire, which is to slam into her as hard as he can because now that he's back where he belongs he wants nothing more than to merge with her - no, to fucking _fuse_ with her.

Once again, it's impossible for him to hide how he feels and as he gets close, he starts murmuring, "I love you, MacKenzie, Oh God, I love you" and keeping his strokes in time with his words.

He brings her off a second time and this time she screams into her pillow and as she does, he empties himself within her, crying out and burying his face in her back. "I love you so much, Kenz. I love you."

As they come down, she turns over again to face him. This time there's no hesitation and she presses herself against him, kissing him hard.

"You win, Billy. I'm convinced."

"Glad to hear it," he smirks and then he's laughing because she's grabbed his head in both hands and is kissing him hungrily, ecstatically, joyously, because she is so damned happy to feel so connected to him, especially after the pain of the last several months. He returns the kiss with equal fervor, stroking her belly as he does and is startled when he feels a sudden, sharp jab.

Suddenly, everything becomes a thousand times more real.

That's their  _daughter_  in there. A little creature he already loves so fiercely he'd do anything for her.

Like her mother.

He knows he's done for.

"Guess she's up," MacKenzie says. He looks at her in wonder and she places her hand over his, guiding him as he strokes the taut skin of her belly.

"My God, MacKenzie," he says, feeling another jab. "Did her little foot do that?" 

"It could have been her elbow," she says, and shivers as he moves his head down, dropping featherlight kisses on her belly so he can address their daughter directly.  
  
"I'm sorry we woke you, Sweetheart," he says soothingly."You don't know me yet, but I'm your dad, and I can't wait to meet you. I'm going to take good care of you, I promise. You and mommy both."

She can't help it - she's just so fucking emotional these days that tears spring to her eyes. After so many months, so many crying jags, and a depression she thought would never end, he's  _here_ , ready to shoulder part of the load, ready to do whatever it takes to give their daughter a happy home.

"She  _does_  know you, Will. She knows your voice. We watch the show every day."

He brings his head up level with hers.

"You do?" he says, beyond touched.

"Yes - it hurt like hell to see you but I wanted her to know who you are. I wanted her to recognize you - on some level - when she finally met you."

"Thank you," he says, kissing her softly. "Thank you for doing that. I love you, Kenz."

"I love you, too," she says, kissing him again.

"Think you can get some sleep?" he asks.

He can feel himself starting to drift and he hopes she feels the same because he's not sure he's going to be able to keep his eyes open for much longer.

"If you hold me the way you used to, I will."

"I can definitely do that," he whispers.

She rolls over so that her back is to him.  He presses his body to hers, slings his arm over her belly and pulls her close.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too. Billy. Always and forever."

She's more relaxed, happy and _sleepy_ than she's been in months. She can't quite believe her good fortune: against all odds, Will is _here_ , his body warm and solid behind her.

He's back where he belongs and they're going to make it.

She smiles and lets herself drift.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Five hours later, he opens his eyes, surprised to discover someone's hand on his hip and someone's face buried in his chest. _What the fuck?_  He looks down, confused, and is startled to discover they belong to _MacKenzie_ , the woman who burst into his life, wrecked him, then forced her way back in, the woman who had him eating out of the palm of her hand within 45 minutes of being told that under no circumstances would they _ever_ be getting back together. He resists the urge to laugh out loud. In what universe did he think he'd ever be able to resist her?

He closes his eyes, marvelling at how materially his feelings - no, his _attitude_ \- has changed in a scant few hours.The 12-year old in him is definitely pissed but the rest of him is surprisingly relaxed. He feels no animosity towards her, a fact made all the more surprising considering he's spent the last eight months choking on it. Her body is warm and solid against him, the scent of her hair a heady mix of lavender and vanilla that both calms and soothes as he breathes it in. He knows - feels - that whatever it is that exists between them is solid and steady, something they can build on, something he can believe in. He takes another deep breath and relaxes against her.

He's not sure what the day will bring, but so long as MacKenzie's doctor's appointment goes well, so long as he can get her to eat, so long as he gets to climb back into bed with her tonight, he just doesn't give a shit. His daughter (he has a _daughter_ ) kicked or elbowed him in the hand last night and everything else seems pretty unimportant by comparison. He feels sanguine, centered and if it wasn't such a candy-ass word to use, he might even describe his mood as _serene_.

He's not so naïve to think it will be clear sailing from here on out (they're bound to have a few more skirmishes along the way), but he also knows it's just part of the road they have to travel to regain their equilibrium. He surrendered to her last night and he intends to keep his eyes on the prize: a healthy baby, a healthy, non-deranged MacKenzie and a solid relationship with them both. He's not going to allow the temporary and the unimportant to distract him.

He's got nothing better to do at this particular moment so he decides to give himself a well-deserved mental pat on the back. He's _proud_ of himself, dammit - for being so evolved, for taking the high road, for focusing on what really matters.

And then ...

… like clockwork …

… his fucking brain has to go and screw everything up.

She'd insisted he prove to her last night that he loves the current her, and although he'd sworn up and down that he does, it occurs to him now that he doesn't actually _know_ the current her. Not very well, anyway.

When they'd been making love, when he kept repeating ad nauseam that he loved her, he was - if he's being perfectly honest - referring to the _old_ her - because that's who he assumes she really is. He's been assuming that version will come roaring back once she has enough sleep and food and mind-blowing sex, but what if it doesn't? What if the _new_ her - the anxious, irrational MacKenzie  - is here to stay, and the old one - the one he _adored_ \- is gone forever? Is he going to have to spend the rest of his life constantly reassuring her, constantly walking on eggshells so he doesn't send her into a tailspin?

_Fuck._

He feels something cold, dark and unsettling in the pit of his stomach and decides maybe it's best not to think about it. His head is throbbing, so …

_Caffeine._

He'll think about caffeine instead.

He gently disengages from her and gets out of bed, silently willing her not to wake up. She doesn't, so he heads for the bathroom, brushes his teeth, puts on his clothes and raises his collar high enough to conceal the hickey she left on his neck last night.

His phone rings just as he's closing the door behind him, so he sprints away from MacKenzie's bedroom to take the call.

_Charlie._

"Jesus, Charlie - it's 3:00 in the morning in New York." Will whispers. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"That's what HBO is for."

"Why are you whispering?" Charlie says, but he doesn't wait for an answer. "You're joking with me, so things must not be going too terribly. How's MacKenzie?"

"She's good - she's still asleep."

"And you know this how?"

"I spent the night here," Will says. "I'm at her parents' place."

Will wends his way down the stairs and sees MacKenzie's parents are up, so he waves and holds out his phone apologetically.

They raise their hands in greeting and he walks across the kitchen and down the five smoothly varnished steps that lead down into the back garden. When he get there, he collapses into a chair. He looks around appreciatively. Both MacKenzie's parents love to garden, so the grounds are filled with plants and flowers of all kinds - hanging vines, soft grass and beautiful old oak trees.

"Where did you sleep?"

Will snorts in reply.

"Christ, Charlie, I never took you for a gossip. You're like an old woman."

Will spies a child-size wheelbarrow - presumably for one of MacKenzie's nieces or nephews - and it occurs to him that he and MacKenzie need to get a house like this, with a big backyard and lots of bedrooms for the other kids he wants to have - _if_ they can sort their shit out. He may not be close to his siblings now, but they were tight growing up. MacKenzie's close to her brothers and sisters, too.

The cold fear is back in his stomach again. Did he just think, ' _If?_ '

"Where did you _sleep_ , Will?"

Will forces himself to shrug it off, to pretend that everything's fine, that he's not suddenly worried as hell.

"With _MacKenzie_ ," he says, giving a hollow laugh. "Are you happy now?"

"Sounds like you are."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," he says, and it's mostly true. _Mostly._

"So you patched things up?"

"Yeah. We did. Listen," he says, suddenly serious. "I want to thank you for that - 'cause a lot of that was down to you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I got here and MacKenzie was wrecked and we got into this huge fight - it was brutal - fucking terrible - but while we were arguing all the things you said before I left - they just kept popping into my head and - well, they helped me focus on what's important."

"And that is ...?"

"I want our daughter to have a great life. And she's only going to have that if Mac's not a lunatic and I'm not a grudge-holding asshole."

"So you're back together? For real?"

"Yeah. We are."

"I am so fucking happy for you, Will. And MacKenzie. She must be doing better then?"

"Yeah…but…it's bad, Charlie. She's … destroyed … emotionally. But hopefully, we can turn that around."

"The baby's fine?"

"I think so - I'm going to take Mac to a checkup in a little while."

"So what's the plan?"

"I'm going to stay here until the baby's born, come back and get things ready for them and when the baby's cleared to fly, Mac and her mother are going to bring her over."

"I can't wait to meet her. Listen, I'll let you go. Give MacKenzie my love."

"I will. And Charlie… thanks. I mean it. For what you said. I'm not sure we'd have worked it out otherwise."

"Glad I could help."

When he returns to the kitchen, guilt comes in the door with him, dragging its heavy suitcase.

MacKenzie's parents greet him warmly.

"Good morning, Will, how did you sleep?" her father asks.

"Well, thank you," he says, forcing himself to look him in the eye. He doesn't know what to be more embarrassed by - the humiliating scene that unfolded in their drawing room last night or the fact that he's 90% sure they heard their daughter screaming his name as she came.

Mercifully, they're too polite to let on.

"Is Mackie still sleeping?" her mother asks, setting a large cup of coffee before him, which he accepts gratefully.

"She is."

"Thank goodness. I don't think she's slept past four in months."

"Hopefully that's all over with."

Lady McHale picks up her part of a newspaper while Lord McHale hands Will part of his, but it lays between them, untouched, as Will sips his coffee, thinking.

_Why is he suddenly terrified?_

Because she's _changed_ in the last eight months. Or have the last eight months brought out something that was always there?

His silence doesn't go unnoticed by Lady McHale.

"Will? Is everything alright?" she asks gently.

He can't look at either of them, so he addresses his coffee mug.

"Yeah - everything's fine," he says quickly.  
  
MacKenzie's parents exchange glances.

"Are you sure?" Lady McHale asks.

What the fuck is he supposed to say? That he's having second thoughts? That he absolutely, definitely, positively loved the _old_ MacKenzie but the new one scares the shit out of him?

He looks up and sees fear in both their faces. Why does everything always have to be on him? Why is it always up to _him_ to be the bigger man, to rise above it, to take the high road?

"Would you like to talk about it?" Lord McHale asks.

Will closes his eyes and sighs, then shakes his head. The urge to nail someone to the wall clearly runs in the family. Can  _none_  of the McHales simply let a man be? 

The last thing he wants to do is disappoint MacKenzie or her parents, so he tries to sort out what he's feeling. Maybe then he can reply in a way that doesn't set off all the alarms. In the end, though, the word that keeps popping into his head is …

_Trapped._

Fuck.

"With all due respect, Sir, I can't talk about it - not with you."

 _That_  gets their attention. In spades.

"Will," Lady McHale says, trying not to look alarmed. "I know I'm not impartial but I've raised three boys and three daughters and I'm a very good listener. No matter what happens between you and MacKenzie - you are still part of this family. I kick myself for not telling you that before but you are. So if you need to talk, I'm here. We both are. No pressure and no judgment."

He decides to take a chance for two reasons: one, he literally has no one else to talk to. Two, he guesses he's far past the point of embarrassment with these two: is there anything they _don't_ know about him at this point? 

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. He opens it again, and the word "she" comes out. When he finally manages to string two words together, what comes out is this:

"She's changed."

Lady McHale nods. "She has."  
  
That isn't _quite_ the response he was hoping for, so he decides to probe further.

"Do you think it's … permanent?"

"Which part?"

Christ. Does he have to spell it out? Surely they've compiled their own laundry list of Mac's psychological afflictions. 

"She's just so … down and insecure, which is not who she is - _was_ \- at all." 

He stops. Now who's being irrational? Christ, she's been through  _hell_  and he shouldn't be worried about what she is or isn't - he should be worried about doing whatever it takes to get her back on track and he will, he will, but…

"She was a firebrand. Completely sure of herself - but last night she said that was just a persona and the real her is scared and insecure and anxious. And that's completely understandable given everything she's been through - "

"I guess I just want some reassurance that the real MacKenzie - the _old_ MacKenzie - is coming back. I'm sorry. I have no right to lay this on you."

Finally, Lady McHale comes through.

"Grief and sleep deprivation may have colored MacKenzie's view of herself, but let me tell you something, Will. _She_ may not know who she is anymore, but _I_ do. She's been a firebrand since the day she was born. _That's_ who she is. And I honestly believe she'll be back to her old self once the baby is born and the two of you are settled."

"You think so?"

"I do. Just give her time."

She notices his continued silence. 

"Is something else bothering you?"

Can he express the _other_ fear that's been percolating? That he's condemning himself to a life of having to walk on eggshells around her?

"We used to be able to be brutally honest with each other and I loved that," he says, thinking back to those halcyon days of incendiary truth-telling followed by passionate make-up sex.

"I've never had that with anyone else. And if that's gone … if I can't be honest without being afraid of sending her into a tailspin…"

"It didn't sound like you were holding anything back last night and she didn't fall apart. In fact, it sounded like she gave as good as she got."

"That's true," he says, feeling a bit lighter. "I guess you're right. Okay, I guess I should just give her some space to get better and see where we are then."

"I think that's wise."

Lady McHale looks at him, wondering how to phrase her next question. She's fairly certain that whatever promises he made to MacKenzie last night were sincere, but she has to make sure.

"Will, I have to ask you something. Was what happened last night - getting back together with her - was that … real … or was it just part of the plan? The one we talked about?"

Mackenzie appears in the doorway then, wielding a 7-day vitamin dispenser and a book called "The Expectant Father."

"What plan, Mum?"

_Fuck._

 


	7. Chapter 7

She looks to her mother, whose expression tells her she's just walked in on a conversation no one wanted her to hear. She looks to Will, who's staring just past her, but whose arms are out, inviting her into his lap. He keeps them out, too, even though he knows he looks like a fucking idiot. Old habits die hard and he predicts she won't want to be anywhere near him once she gets wind of the 'plan.' For her part, she's touched he remembered their old drill: she's eaten breakfast in his lap more times than either of them can count. 

She'd been anxious when she'd come downstairs this morning, halfway thinking everything that happened last night had been a figment of her imagination. When she sees Will sitting at her parents’ kitchen table, in the flesh, she breaks into a smile so wide it feels like it just might break her face. That doesn’t go unnoticed by her parents, who are astonished at their daughter’s physical transformation. Her cheeks are rosy and the dark circles under her eyes aren't quite so pronounced, but what they notice most of all is that the grief is gone. She no longer looks haunted, depressed or devastated. She looks  _happy_.

And she _is_. He’s so fucking handsome, sitting there in a dark blue, sleeveless shirt that precisely matches the color of his eyes. All she wants to do is put her hands on him, to feel his hands all over her and if her parents weren’t here, she’d drag him back to bed, nine-months’ pregnant or not.

She hurries across the cool marble floor to settle herself on his knees and as he envelops her in his arms, a wave of pure happiness surges through her. He's  _here_ , he's decided to put the past behind them and she _could. not. be. happier._

"'Morning, Billy," she whispers, putting her hands around his neck and leaning in to press her lips against his. Will stares at her, riveted, hardly daring to breathe. A sleeping MacKenzie is adorable but an awake one is a revelation. There are those eyes, coruscating and alight with intelligence, that skin, so soft and luminous, and those  _lips_ , apple-red and parted, seconds away from pressing against his own. He closes his eyes and waits, on tenterhooks, for her to claim him and in that moment, everything -  _everything_  - else is forgotten: his doubts of the last few minutes, the fact that her parents are right there next to them, the fact that all hell's about to break loose. He's just a body waiting to be conquered. A nanosecond later he feels her hot breath against his mouth, the warmth of her face against his, the tendrils of hair that have fallen out of her ponytail tickling his cheeks. His breath quickens and all he can do is wait - for that intoxicating, incendiary moment when she finally, finally decides to take pity on him. 

Seconds pass - too many – so he opens his eyes. It’s then that he realizes she's just been teasing him, delighting in making him wait to slake his thirst. Her eyes are dancing with mirth because she knows  _exactly_  what she's doing to him. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she starts to move and all he can do is watch - in slow motion - as she prepares to give him what he needs. She dips her head down, comes in for the kill and finally, finally, he feels it: her perfect, sweet-as-chocolate lips against his. It's a light kiss, delicate and sweet, with the promise of something more, but she quickly pulls back because she is, after all, just teasing him.

Seconds later she gives a startled gasp as she feels his hand on the back of her head. Then he’s pulling her roughly against him and pressing a searing kiss to her lips that takes her breath away. He does it because he has to, because he has zero self-control where she’s concerned, because her beautiful face is mere inches from his, because those eyes are staring at him with joy and delight and because those lips belong to _him_.

He absolutely, positively cannot let this get out of hand - however much he'd like to - so he allows her to pull back.

She momentarily forgets the question she’d asked when she first entered the room because who can think when every nerve ending in their body is lit up like a Christmas tree? Soon, though, the question comes bubbling back and she decides to do  _him_  one better, to break down his defenses until he has no choice but to answer honestly.

She deftly skates her fingers across the fine, blond hair on his forearm, allowing the pads of her fingers to travel past his elbow and settle just beneath his loose shirtsleeve. No one else can see what she's doing but he can sure as fuck feel it. Her fingers stroke his bare skin with a feather-light touch, making delicate patterns that send jolts of pleasure to his groin. He's now seething with frustration. She's in his lap, he's allowed to have his way with her, but he can't because they're not alone.

_Fuck._

Satisfied she's left him dull and witless, she pulls back to look at him. "What plan, Billy?" she says sweetly.

_Christ. Way to spoil the mood, MacKenzie._

He supposes it’s for the best.

"Nothing," he says, quickly, trying to gather his wits about him, trying not to look at her and trying to change the subject. "How did you sleep?"

She knows very well he's hiding something, so she looks to her mother, who's just lifted her head from the newspaper in which she pretended to be immersed while her daughter and her -  _lover?_  -  _boyfriend?_  - whatever - made out like teenagers. She's never seen anything like the passion that exists between these two. No wonder MacKenzie hasn't been able to get over it.

"What  _plan_?" MacKenzie asks again.

Her question hangs in the air, waiting for some hearty soul to answer it.

"It was nothing," her mother says, getting up. "Would you like some juice?"

It's surprisingly difficult to prise information from Lady McHale once she's decided not to share it, so MacKenzie turns her attention back to Will. She suspects she’ll have better luck with him, if only because he told her once he’s putty in her hands when she’s in his lap. Not that she’s ever taken advantage of it. Well, once or twice. Maybe.

"What plan did you make with my mother, Will?"

He asks his brain to serve up a plausible explanation, but she's right - he can'tthinkwhen she's this close to him - not having spent the last eight months in the desert.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, she decides to turn the screws.

"No secrets, remember?” she bites out. “Or am I the only one expected to abide by that rule?"

He sighs and resigns himself to his fate. She's right. This has to work both ways. He'll just tell her the truth: he couldn't go through with it, he chose her instead and they're going to live happily ever after. Case closed and pass the peanuts. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen? She got  _some_  sleep last night; surely diving off the deep end isn't on today's agenda. 

"Okay. You’re right," he says. "When I called yesterday - "

"I'll tell her, Will," Lady McHale interjects as she comes to stand beside them. "It was my idea."

"Penny -"

"No. If she should be angry with anyone, it should be me. You didn't go along with it willingly."

"Go along with  _what_?" MacKenzie says.

Her mother sticks her chin out, preparing herself. MacKenzie's going to hit the roof when she finds out what she proposed to Will, no matter her motivation, no matter that she was desperate to do something - anything - to help her child. 

"I wasn't completely honest with you, Mackie. About how my conversation with Will went yesterday."

"Go on."

"He _did_  intimate that he was happy about the baby," Lady McHale continues, "But other than that, he was fairly -"

"I was an asshole, Mac," Will interrupts. "She said you needed my forgiveness to get better and I told her I couldn't do it."

"That's pretty much what you said when you came in last night ...so?"

She can only imagine the tone Will took with her mother, which was probably the same one he took with her when he ejected her from his life. She tries to think how her mother might react to the awful, cold and condescending Will. Penny McHale is no shrinking violet but this particular version of Will is so contemptuous and so unlike the man her mother believes Will to be, MacKenzie thinks it must have had some effect.

What would her mother do when faced with Will’s ice-cold demeanour?

She tries to keep her tone light, but something cold settles in the pit of her stomach.

"What nefarious plan did you come up with in the face of his unwillingness, Mum?"

Lady McHale takes a deep breath and forces herself to look her daughter in the eye.

"I asked him to pretend to forgive you until you were strong enough to handle the truth."

The words hang between them and Will and her parents hold their collective breaths, waiting for MacKenzie's response. She turns the words over in her mind, weighing them, trying to parse their significance.

 _What does that mean exactly?_ _That he would tell me he forgave me but it would actually be a_ ** _lie_** _?_ _That he would tell me he wanted to_ ** _be_** _with me but it would actually be a lie?_

That's it.

The last one.

MacKenzie off Will's lap in an instant, whirling around to face him and as she does, she wobbles and he reaches out to steady her. She wrenches her hand away and stares at him, disbelieving.

He  _lied_  to her, which might be faintly amusing (turnabout being fair play and all) if it didn't mean she actually  _is_  going to have to do this alone, she actually  _is_  going to have to watch him move on with someone else and that he actually  _doesn't_  want her.  _at. all._   What the fuck is she going to  _do_? 

He watches as her face crumples and her eyes fill with tears.

"Is  _this_  - last night - everything you said - everything we  _did_  - was it all a  _lie_? Did you say you love me because you think I can't handle the  _truth_?"

" _No!_ " he says loudly, the panic in his voice matching hers.

Fuck. Yelling at her isn't going to calm her down. He tries to modulate his voice, trying desperately to get through to her before she can cave in on herself.

"Mac - listen to me," he says, taking a step toward her.

"Has all of this been a  _lie_?" she shrieks.

"No.  _No._ Look at me, MacKenzie. Look at me," he says, putting his hands on both her shoulders. "I told you the truth last night. All the way through. I was terrified when your mother told me how bad it was, so I told her I'd do it but on the way over, I knew I couldn't - and that's why I told you about Erin."

"Why should I believe you?" 

"For the same reason you want me to believe you. No more secrets, right? No more lies."

"That was before I found out you and my mother have been conspiring against me!"

_Christ. Does she really not know how bad it is?_

"We weren't conspiring against you, Mac. Your mother was grasping at straws because she was  _terrified_ _._ Don't be angry with her."

She shakes her head at both of them. She can feel herself starting to spiral out of control.

"I can't trust  _her_  - I can't trust  _you_  -"

Can she trust her fucking father? He's standing there, looking as bewildered as she feels, so maybe he doesn't know what the fuck's going on, either.

Her eyes are wild and Will  _knows_  she's about to go there and he is  _not_  going to let her go there.

"You want people to tell you the truth, MacKenzie? Then start acting like you can handle it!"   
  
" _Will_  - " MacKenzie's father interjects.

Will turns to look at him.

“No! I’m sorry, Sir, but this is between MacKenzie and me.”

He turns back to MacKenzie.

“Do you have any idea how your inability to cope has affected the people around you?”

Christ, he has a lot of nerve. He left her for _dead_ eight months ago. How the fuck would he know the effect her behavior has had on anyone? And where does he get off trying to lecture her?

" _Don't_  patronize me, Will," she says slowly. "I am  _not_  your errant child. I'm your  _partner_. Or I thought I was until five minutes ago."

The tenor of her voice, so cold, so withering, gives him pause, but he's not losing this fight. She's the one who fucked up. Not him.

He stops.

Where did that come from? He shakes it off, unwilling to cede his point. 

"Then start acting like it," he says unsympathetically. "What's it going to be? Do you want the truth or do you want people to protect your feelings? You can't have it both ways."

"I want the  _truth,_  you pompous, self-righteous ass. And fuck you for getting off on delivering it."

"I am _not_  getting off on this, MacKenzie. You want the truth? Here it is. You're a trainwreck. And you have been for the last eight months. Don't you dare be angry at the people who have had to sit by and watch you disintegrate."

She just stares at him. 

Her expression - one of unbridled  _contempt_  - makes his blood run cold. He has never seen that look on her face before - not directed at him, anyway - and he never, ever wants to see it again.

She's silent for a moment, weighing her words, and when she finally responds, she enunciates every syllable, ensuring each one is a shard of glass against his skin.

"Don't. you.  _dare_ _._ get angry with me on my parents' behalf. Unlike  _you_ , they loved me enough to stay _with_  me while I disintegrated."

He blinks as her words - her  _tone_ \- hits him like a punch to the gut. He doesn't know why he's blaming  _her_ for being on the brink; he's so fucking close to the edge himself he thinks he might burst into tears. 

She's right.

She's  _right_.

He is - and has been - a total fucking asshole. Superior and sanctimonious. Despicable. He got her pregnant, kicked her out of his life, sent her into a war zone where she got stabbed, ignored her for eight months while she was drowning and  _he_ hasthe gall to act self-righteous and morally superior? 

"You're right. You're right," he breathes, taking a step toward her. "I'm sorry."

She backs up, shaking her head.

"I don't want your apologies, Will. I want an honest answer. And if you don't give me one, I will  _know_. Was everything you said to me last night - all the good stuff - a  _lie_?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"Then explain it to me. How did you get from agreeing to go along with my mother's plan to believing we’re going to live happily ever after?"

It is apparently his destiny to have the elder McHales bear witness to his most embarrassing moments so he tries to pretend they aren't there. At the same time, he tries to get a grip on his own emotions, which are choking him.

"When I walked in last night, my plan was to let you know I'd be there for the baby and to figure out custody arrangements. That's it."

He stops, trying to catalogue the emotions of last night, desperate, desperate to get this right. 

"But the second I saw you again, I knew I'd been fooling myself. So I had a choice to make. I could either spend the rest of my life seeing you every weekend and longing for you from afar or I could believe you, put the past behind us and have the life I always wanted.  _Which I have only ever wanted with you._ So that's what I picked. That’s what happened."

What the fuck is she supposed to believe? He looks sincere, and more than anything else, she wants to believe him but can she? Should she?

"I don't know what to think."

He takes another step toward her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

"Mac, look at me," he says, lifting her chin up. She does and there’s worry and concern and what she  _thinks_  is love in his eyes but now she's questioning everything. 

"I couldn't lie to you about something like that. I  _wouldn't_. I couldn't stomach it. Listen," he says, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"After last night - you  _know_  how I feel about you, don’t you, Mac?”

His voice cracks and his tone is very close to pleading. 

“You wanted proof. And I gave it to you. _And you believed me_. Remember?"

She nods. “Can I believe you now? Please don’t lie to me, Will. I can’t take it. If you need to cut me loose, just do it. Get it over with. I’ll survive.”

“Never again, Mac. I’m never cutting you loose again. Not for as long as I live.”

“Are you sure?”

He is. He’s allowed himself to be distracted by the unimportant - the new MacKenzie vs. the old MacKenzie, the idea that things may never quite be the same between them again. He needs to pull his head out of his ass, stop, think, and focus on what's real. And that is the connection that pulses between them. He can feel it now, just another fact of the room, like the ornately carved wooden chair in front of him, hastily shoved out of the way, like the picture of a young MacKenzie and her siblings on the wall behind her father's head, her eyes so bright and so discerning, even at the age of 10. The way he feels about her is simply a fact. It just is. He loves her. No matter what fucking incarnation of her this is. And he will love her until the day he dies.

“I’m sure.”

She's about to say she believes him - that she  _chooses_  to believe him - when a thought bubbles to the surface. Last night, Will was in the very same boat she's in right now, terrified he was making the wrong decision, that somewhere down the road this was going to below up in his face. In the end, though, he chose to believe her. She guesses she can do the same for him. 

"Alright, Will. You were willing to give me the benefit of the doubt last night, so it's only fair I do the same for you. I'm choosing to believe you."

"Thank God," he says, pulling her against him, tucking her into his chest and kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry I was a self-righteous dick."

"It's okay." The anger has receded and once again, she's just grateful to be in his arms. She pulls back to look at him, stands on tiptoe to give him a kiss and caresses his cheek with her hand. Then she leaves him to sidle up to her mother and put her arms around her.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Mum, Dad. I know it mustn't have been easy for you."

"It's alright, Mackie. We're just glad you're feeling better." Lady McHale smooths the hair back from her daughter's forehead. "Except for what just happened, you are, aren't you? The color's back in your cheeks, you look a little more rested. You look  _happy_.” She lowers her voice. “You are aren't you, dear? With Will?"

The love and warmth she sees shining out of her mother's eyes make tears prick in her own. Her parents have been her rock these last several months and she wouldn't have survived without them.

Her voice catches when she answers.

"Yes, Mum. I _am_."

"He's a good man, your William," she says at normal volume. "He curses far too much, but so do you. You must stop that, by the way, the both of you," she says, turning to look at Will. "I don't want my granddaughter's first word to be of the four-letter variety."

MacKenzie and Will both smile and Lady McHale looks from Will to her daughter.

"Will you two be alright without a referee? Harold and I were going to go to our yoga class, but we can skip it if you need us to stay."

"No, Mum, you should go. We'll be fine."

"Okay, Lovey. We'll be back in an hour-and-a-half to take you to your appointment. Breakfast will be ready in 45 minutes. Can you take it out of the oven when the timer goes off?"

"We will."

"Promise me you'll eat something, dear. I made those rolls you like - you can take them out of the oven in five minutes. Will? You'll make sure she eats?"

"He won't have to. I'm starving."

Will spies a bunch of bananas on the counter, plucks one, peels it and hands it to her.

"Don't forget we're having everyone over for dinner tonight, so please resolve your disputes before they get here. Your fighting style isn't suitable for children."

"We will, Mum."

As the door closes behind her parents, Will sits down at the table, pats his knee and opens his arms but she shakes her head. She's not quite ready to forgive him yet.

"Want more coffee?" she asks.

"No, thank you."

She putters around the kitchen, getting yogurt and muesli and milk from the refrigerator. She sets them down on the table, then takes another banana and four hot rolls out of the smaller oven. For the first time in months, she's _ravenous_ and she guesses that's all down to Will. She carries the rest of her breakfast to the table, sits down opposite Will and shoves two rolls and a banana his way.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in my lap?" he offers.

"Ordinarily, yes. But today? Not so much." 

She picks up a roll, feels its weight and shellacked surface and breaks it open, feeling the heat rise from its steamy centre. She swirls the butter knife in the white crock, spreads a smear of honey-infused butter on the roll, lifts it to her mouth and breathes deeply before she takes the first bite. Heaven.

Will watches her eat, amused and grateful she's got her appetite back.

Although she’s enjoying her breakfast, it's downright odd to be sitting across from him and not just because it's the first time they've eaten breakfast together in months. It's ridiculous, really, but she actually  _would_  be more comfortable in his lap. He's here and they're together and she just wants to forget about their argument so she can get back to being madly in love with him. Which she  _is_. No question.

She shoves her dishes toward him, gets up and motions for him to open his arms, which he does. As she settles sideways into his lap, he wraps his arms tightly around her and relaxes against her.

"I love you, you know," he whispers, nuzzling her ear.

She puts down her spoon, twists around to face him and puts her arms around his neck. 

"I do know," she says softly. "I love you, too." 

She kisses him and  _just like that_ , all is right with his world.

What is it about being this close to her that removes all doubts?

Maybe this is what's real.

Maybe this is the real gauge of the truth.

He decides that it is.


	8. Chapter 8

MacKenzie pushes her plate away and turns back towards Will, who puts his hands in her hair and brings their faces together. He closes his eyes, brushes his lips delicately against the corner of her mouth and lingers as he breathes her in.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers.

She stares into his eyes and pushes the soft fabric of his shirt away from his neck, then slides her palm slowly, agonizingly, across his shoulder, making him shiver.

"So are you, Billy," she says. "You have the most beautiful eyes. Like the blue of the sea."

He smiles and dots her lips with open-mouthed kisses and when she tries to part his lips with her tongue he pulls away, determined to inflame her further. "Not yet, Sweetheart," he says soothingly. "Patience." He resumes his ministrations, taking his time, working her into a desire-filled frenzy by refusing to give her exactly what she wants and then further delays her gratification with a question.

"Can we go to the hotel tonight?" he says, nipping the delicate skin beneath her ear.

"You're not comfortable here?" she asks breathlessly.

He pulls back to look at her. "I want to be alone with you. I don't even want to think about what your parents must think of me. The arguing, the sex."

"The sex?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure they heard us last night. You, anyway."

"Me? I wasn't that loud."

"You were, Kenz. You were really fucking loud." He's got his hand gently resting on her thigh and her breath quickens as he moves it up an inch.

"Do you really think they heard me?

"Yes."

"God, how embarrassing," she says, running her fingers through his hair. "I don't think they'd be that surprised, though. We've always been passionate about each other. Haven't we?" she says, nuzzling his ear.

"Doesn't mean they want to hear it ... Christ, Mac ... keep doing that ..." he says, thrilling at the sensation of his earlobe between her teeth. His hand is now under the hem of her short maternity gown and he's inching further and further up her thigh. "I do, though. Want to hear it. You, I mean. So can we go? To the hotel?"

She pulls back. "Yes. Do you still have the reservation? You didn't check in last - "

He swoops in again, gently capturing her upper lip and skating his tongue across it. She feels so much for him, is so ridiculously in love with him, that no matter how hard she tries it feels like she can't get enough air. He makes her feel like no one else ever has, ever could or ever will.

"God, Billy - you are so good at kissing. And everything, everything in the bedroom. You drive me insane. How do you always know exactly what to do?"

"Instinct." _Plus a couple hundred videos_ , he doesn't add.

She wonders how she's survived without his touch for the last eight months. "I've missed you so much."

"Yeah?" he says, kissing her again. "What did you miss?"

"Everything. The way your lips feel against mine. The way your tongue feels in my mouth. The way you scream my name and tell me you love me when you finish."

"Christ, Mac. You cannot say things like that and expect me to be able to wait until tonight. Let's go back to bed."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to undress you, kiss you all over and then I want to fucking fuse with you. I want to hear you disturb the whole neighborhood when you come."

He wants to get up and carry her to the bedroom but her proximity compels him to lean in again to press his lips against hers, making her whine in frustration. Where is his tongue when she needs it? She wants to be patient. She knows it will be worth it, because Will knows exactly what he's doing in this department but she needs something more direct, more forceful and if she doesn't get it soon, she's going to go mad.

He can sense her frustration so he adds some playfulness to the mix by giving her a kiss on the lips, then another and then another. Each is successively longer and softer, lingering, until finally, finally he parts her lips with his tongue but at that moment someone screams behind him, nearly causing her to fall out of his lap.

"Oh my God!"

Will swiftly extends an arm to steady MacKenzie and she clutches his shoulders to peer behind him.

Her sister. And brother. Are standing there, mouths agape.

"Christ, Harriet! What the fuck are you screaming about?!" MacKenzie exclaims as Will smooths her gown back over her thighs.

Her sister is agog, just staring at Will, her eyes alight with excitement. She looks from Will to MacKenzie in wonder.

"He _came_ \- you're back together -"  
  
"You have a gift for stating the obvious," MacKenzie says, trying not to laugh at her sister's goggle-eyed stare. "He did. And we are. Yes."

"I'm so happy for you, Mackie." Harriet says, her eyes bright.

"Don't cry, Harriet."  
  
"We've been so worried about you - we can say that now, right?" she says, looking at her brother.  
  
"Hopefully that's all over with," Will says. "Peter. Nice to see you," Will says. "Harriet."

"Hello, Will," Peter says.

Harriet can only stare. "Will," she says. "Nice to see you."

"Mum and Dad think you're coming by this afternoon," MacKenzie says.

"We are - we came by early because it rained last night and Harriet thinks we need to put the tables out now. So ... we'll get out of your way, won't we, Harriet?" Peter says meaningfully to his still-stunned sister.

"Yes - uh, carry on. Don't let us stop you. Let's go get those tables, shall we?"

Will watches them scamper out the door and shakes his head. He and MacKenzie will just have to wait until tonight because her siblings' close proximity is seriously cooling his ardor.

"Where were we?" MacKenzie says, putting his hand back on her thigh.

"You seriously want to do it while they're here?"

"I'm desperate, Will. I'd do you in front of the Queen."

A loud crash and equally loud cursing from outside makes their decision for them. MacKenzie leaps off Will's lap, and heads outside, Will following close behind.

"Harriet! Peter! Are you alright?"

"Yes," splutters Peter. "Harriet forgot to dry off her end of the table and it slipped out of her hands."

"I'll help," Will says, picking up Harriet's end. "Why don't you two go back inside," he says, taking over.

"Will to the rescue," Harriet murmurs. MacKenzie elbows her playfully.

"Thanks, Billy. Mum put breakfast on before she left," she tells Peter and Harriet. "It'll be ready in 15 minutes."

"Good - I'm starved," Harriet says, following her into the house.

When they park themselves at the table, Harriet examines her sister closely. No more tear-stained cheeks, no more vacant stares, no more endless silences. Her sister is back. Thank God.

"Mackie, you look brand new. Tell me everything. Everything."

MacKenzie gives her the abbreviated version and by the time she finishes, breakfast is ready, the menfolk are traipsing back into the house and her parents are back early.

They all sit down to eat. MacKenzie takes a chair opposite Will, who looks at her questioningly and then opens his arms.

She smiles, gets up and settles herself in his lap.

"Much better," he murmurs, kissing her exposed arm.

"How's he supposed to eat?" Harriet asks.

"He's used to it," MacKenzie reassures her.

He is. They've perfected it. She hands him his plate, loops an arm around his neck and he sits half-cocked, feeding himself. Who cares if her burgeoning mid-section is making things three times more complicated? She's in his lap, where she should be. He quickly finishes his plate and she takes it from him while he loops an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. The family's talking amongst themselves so he dots her arm with kisses, which doesn't go unnoticed by Harriet, who elbows her brother. They watch, amused, as he gives her one last kiss, closes his eyes and rests his forehead against her arm, breathing her in.

"Tired, Will?" Peter smirks.

Will opens his eyes.

"Mind your own business, Peter," MacKenzie says. "He can do whatever he likes back there."

"Really?" laughs Harriet.

_"Really."_

They finish eating and Will accompanies MacKenzie to her appointment where he breathes a sigh of relief. Everything's on track. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that they're going to be parents in five days.

He spends the next couple of hours helping Harriet and Peter get ready for the evening. Although he'd much rather be alone with MacKenzie, he gets along well with her brother and sister and he's enjoying feeling part of a tribe. Of course, he'd never admit it but he's also enjoying the familiar, much-missed sound of MacKenzie barking orders. She has an opinion about everything (whether she knows anything about it or not), including the lamp he just set down on a table.

"Will," she calls from the chaise lounge she's occupying on the periphery of the action. That lamp isn't for the kiddie table. They'll knock it over."

"What the hell is it doing in this box, then?" he grouses.

"I don't know - we use fairy lights - they're solar-powered. Peter will show you how to string them. Harriet," she calls. "Can you please find some of the fairy lights and give them to Will?"

"They're in the box right next to you, Mac," Harriet calls from the other side of the garden. "Get off your arse and give them to him yourself."

"Stay where you are, Mac," Will says. "I'll get them."

Within 20 seconds he's at her side, rummaging in the box next to her. He finds several strings of lights, pulls them out of the box and drops them in her lap.

"Hold these for me, will you?" he says. "I have to do something."

She looks up at him quizzically.

"What?"

"This."

He leans down and presses his lips against hers. "I love you," he murmurs against them because, as usual, being so close to her requires him to say it.

He tries to keep the kiss brief because the chaise is low and he's not entirely sure he won't trip over the box and land on their unborn child but MacKenzie coils her arms around him and pulls him in for another.

It's protracted and sweet and even though the angle is awkward as fuck he find himself losing himself in it, nipping her bottom lip and soothing it with his tongue. He's missed her so much, he's missed those lips against his so much he just wants to carry her to the bedroom and have his way with her. _Later, later_ , he tells himself.

"Get a room, you two," Harriet calls.

They ignore her.

"I love you, too," MacKenzie whispers against his lips. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Me, too," he says gruffly and pulls back. "You feeling okay?"

She nods.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks for helping out, Billy."

Will heads back to his table and Harriet takes this opportunity to needle her sister.

"That was _quite_ a kiss, Mackie," she says, plopping herself down on the chaise at MacKenzie's feet. "I'm surprised the pair of you didn't burst into flames."

"Sorry - he's irresistible."

"Apparently."

"Isn't he handsome?" MacKenzie says, unable to take her eyes off him.

Will's not Harriet's type and he's older than he should be but she has to admit he is handsome.

"He's not my type but I can see what you see in him. I _think_. Tell me," she says, stretching up to whisper conspiratorially in her sister's ear. "How was it last night? If what I saw just now is any indication, it must have been fucking fantastic."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Mac. There's no way he kept his hands to himself. Or you either. So tell me: was it as good as you remember?"

"It was," she says, remembering how good it felt to be so close to him again. "Far too brief but-"

"You mean he-"

"No. He would never. He always waits for-Christ, Harriet. _No_. It just-happened so fast-everything's happened so fast-we haven't had time to-let's just say we're used to taking our time. And we couldn't do that last night. It was late and we'd had such a crappy evening but it was perfect. He was perfect." She looks at him dreamily. "He _is_ perfect, don't you think?"

"You're pathetic."

"I know."

Harriet taps her on the shoulder. "Earth to Mac. Tune in."  
  
MacKenzie turns to look at her sister.

"What?"

"So you've forgiven him?"

MacKenzie sighs. What's forgiveness? If it simply means putting the past behind them, the answer is yes. She's still hurt by Will's radio silence over the last eight months, by Erin, by the fact that he was willing to go the rest of his life without seeing her, but she knows why he did it, and she can't hold onto it. Not now. Not with so many other things clamoring for her attention.

"If he can forgive me for ripping his heart out, I guess I can forgive him for ripping out mine. He had his reasons, Harriet. They're hard to understand if you didn't have his childhood but he didn't think he had a choice."

"And now? He forgives you now?"

"I think so. He wants what I want, so he's trying to put it behind him."

"So you're both okay? With what happened between you?"

"Not okay, exactly. We still have a lot to talk about but ..." She sighs. How to explain to a third party that what she and Will have together is so special, so rare, that they couldn't not fix it?

"It's hard to put into words, Harriet. There's something so strong-so powerful between us. It can't be ignored-or denied. The second I saw him last night I knew I couldn't live with just handing the baby off to him on weekends. I couldn't live without being able to touch him again. And thank God he feels the same way about me. Thank God. I don't know what I'd do if he didn't."

"I'm so happy for you, Mac. I wanted to kick his arse but if you believe him, if you think he had a good enough reason to do what he did, I'll take your word for it. Seeing him now, seeing the way he looks at you? It's obvious he still adores you."

"The feeling's mutual, Harriet. It absolutely is."

"I know. Believe me. I can tell."

Harriet shoves her gently, playfully and they both laugh.


	9. Chapter 9

Two hours later, the rest of MacKenzie's siblings arrive with their families and a couple of friends in tow. Apparently, news travels fast in the McHale family because none of them seem surprised to see Will. Everyone greets him warmly but there's an undercurrent of disapproval-especially among the three McHale siblings with whom Will didn't spend the afternoon. It takes less than five minutes to manifest and Simon, MacKenzie's eldest brother, is the first one out of the gate.

"Surprised to see you here, Will. Thought you'd left Mackie for dead."

Being the eldest brother himself, Will knows exactly what Simon is doing: he's trying to assert his authority, trying to let Will know that MacKenzie's not alone in the world, that there are people watching out for her, and that he will punch Will's lights out if he hurts her again (which is laughable, really, since Will towers over him). Will knows this. And it still pisses him off. He takes a deep breath and resolves not to flatten him.

"I didn't know, Simon. I came as soon as I found out."

"She's been torn up about you for months. Are you in or are you just toying with her?"

Will takes another deep breath and tries to put himself in MacKenzie's brother's shoes. All Simon knows is that his sister has been despondent for months and Will has been nowhere to be found. Will summons his more evolved self to handle this conversation.

"I'm in."

"Good," Simon says coldly. "You'd better not hurt her again."

Will answers the way he'd want one of his own sisters' suitors to respond if he were in Simon's place.

"I won't."

MacKenzie's eldest sister is up next. She's four years' MacKenzie's senior and her resemblance to MacKenzie is so uncanny it always sets him on edge.

"Hi, Liv," Will says when she pops up next to him. She's never been too keen on him, mistrusting his celebrity and the age difference between he and MacKenzie. Apparently the last eight months haven't endeared him to her.

"Nice to see you," Will says. "How are the kids?"

She doesn't bother answering.

"So... the great Will McAvoy finally deigns to show up. Why? Why do you suddenly care about her now? Or is it just because she's carrying your kid?"

He sighs and looks at her warily.

"Did you and Simon set this up? He pretty much asked me the same thing 15 minutes ago. He left the kid part out, though. Can I expect a similar visit from Ted?" he says, referring to her younger brother. "Or from your spouses? 'Cause if I can, you might as well bring 'em all over. I'd rather not spend the evening having the same conversation over and over again, trying to defend myself."

"You can't. What you did was indefensible."

"Look, Liv. I know you think I did MacKenzie wrong. That I left her to suffer on her own. And I did - but it wasn't intentional. I didn't know she was pregnant until yesterday. Yes, she tried to get in touch with me numerous times but I didn't listen to her messages or read her e-mails or her letters because I couldn't. It hurt too much. But yesterday, she got through. So here I am. And here I'll be. She's not going to have to do this alone. I'm going to take care of her and-the baby, obviously. For the rest of my life, I'm going to take care of them both."

"So you just want the baby and MacKenzie comes with the package?" Liv says.

"How did you get that from what I just said?"

Liv snorts. Will has no idea why she's so antagonistic towards him but he doesn't actually give a fuck. 

"Because if you really loved _her,_ you wouldn't have thrown her out when she told you about Brian."

"Please don't ever - _ever_ \- say that name to me again and for the record, I had a few very good reasons for throwing her out which I have now come to see were the result of fallacious thinking. Your sister and I are good. We're solid. You don't need to worry about it."

"I hope that's true. For her sake, I hope that's true." She turns on her heel and walks away.

"It _is_ ," he calls after her. Christ, if he has to spend the next God-knows-how-many hours defending himself it's going to be a long evening. 

MacKenzie appears beside him.

"How long do we have to stay here again?" he says, putting his arm companionably around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

"Simon and Liv gave me hell and I'm pretty sure Ted's next."

"Sorry about that, Billy. I already talked to him, so he won't be bothering you." 

"Thank God. I just want to get through this evening and focus on what's important. Which is getting you back to the hotel. So really: how long do we have to stay?"

"9:00?"

"Three more hours?" he whines. "What am I supposed to do for three hours? You know I'm terrible at small-talk."

"You'll think of something. Listen, I have to go talk to Peter."

"Did he bring the guy who's been ogling you ever since he got here?"

"Alex? He hasn't been ogling me. Not with this belly."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"I am." She reaches up to caress his cheek. "Why don't you go talk to Simon? Try to make up with him?"

"Do I have to? He's never liked me and I doubt he's going to start now. Honestly, Kenz. I don't know how you're all part of the same family. You, Peter and Harriet are hilarious and the other three have no sense of humor."

"They take after my father's side. Life is _very. serious._ Nothing to joke about. Simon's a good egg, though. He's just looking out for me. He's always been my champion."

"I know." He sighs. "Fine. I'll go talk to him. But I'll be counting the minutes until we can leave."

He ends up chatting with Harriet instead. He'll deal with Simon later.

MacKenzie approaches Peter, who's chatting with Alex. He's one of their oldest and dearest friends, and he's had a crush on MacKenzie since primary school. Neither has ever dared broach the subject: he because he senses she'd reject him and she because she doesn't want to see the pain in his eyes when she does. It had been much harder to deal with when she was living here in her early 20s, but once she'd moved away, they'd settled into a nice, easy accord made possible by only seeing each other a couple of times a year.

For the last six months it's been different: he's Peter's best friend and they've seen each other at least three times a week. It would be so easy to take advantage of his obvious affection for her but she's been careful not to: Alex is a jewel who deserves to be loved wholeheartedly, without reservation. He gives her quiet pep talks, assuring her she'll find her footing once more and in exchange, she listens to him vilify Will. If nothing else, his description of Will as a pompous, corn-fed, buttock-rimming prig--a revolting, foul-smelling mass of neuroses--makes her laugh when all she wants to do is cry. In recent weeks though, there's been a shift: he seems to want to give voice to that which has lain between them for years and only quick-thinking on her part has saved them from a conversation that would have ended in tears--his and hers both.

Alex has done everything in his power to make her see she doesn't need Will--not necessarily because she'd be better off with him--though she absolutely, definitely would be--but because she deserves better. Still, she doesn't see it and as someone who's loved her so well for so long, it infuriates him.

Which is exactly how he'd felt when Peter rang him earlier, practically breathless with relief, to tell him Will had finally turned up. Alex knows it's just a matter of time before Will breaks her heart again and then where will she be? He watches throughout the evening as Will and MacKenzie make a point of checking in with one another, and he can't help but despise the adoring looks she gives Will, wishing like hell she was aiming them at him.

Although he's not normally given to overt flirting, he makes an exception tonight: after all, if he can't have her, he'll do his best to piss off the one who can. Maybe then MacKenzie will see what a total ass Will is. MacKenzie only has eyes for Will, though, so Alex's flirtatious behavior barely registers.

Across the grounds, Will seethes. He watches as Alex touches her shoulder when he brings her a drink, makes her double-over in laughter, and insists on dancing with her when Harriet puts on "Dancing Queen" and orders everyone to dance.

Will feels like a Neanderthal in Homo sapien clothing. Why is she letting him touch her? Why is she letting him make her laugh? Why the fuck is she dancing with him? Will had been stuck in a conversation with Lord McHale when the music started so he couldn't exactly intercept her. As the seconds and torments mount, Will gets angrier and angrier. Why isn't she telling that asshole to fuck off? Does she want him to flirt with her? Would she secretly rather be with him? He's younger than Will, handsome, fit, obviously funny. Has she completely forgotten about their agreement? Sure, it may have been suspended for the last eight months but does she really need to be reminded that it was reinstated as of 1:00 AM last night?

He guesses she does.

He watches as MacKenzie leaves Alex and Peter to go into the house so Will follows her, trying to tamp down his annoyance, trying to call his rational self to handle this but it's not working because all he can see is red.

She belongs to _him_ , Goddammit.

He won't be made a fool of again.


	10. Chapter 10

He wonders briefly if this is what someone with PTSD feels like - knowing they're completely out of control but powerless to stop it.

He can't go through it again.

He couldn't get out of bed for a week after she'd confessed. Couldn't stand to look in the mirror for five times that long because staring at the face of a man so gormless, so witless made him sick. His girlfriend had been fucking someone on the side for _four months_ and he hadn't had a clue. He'd been a _prosecutor_ for fuck's sake. How did he not know?

The knowledge that he hadn't, that he'd been so stupid, so _blind_ , had rocked him to his core.

He'd returned to work on Day 10, slumped and broken. That MacKenzie had resigned was no secret among the staff but what no one could fathom was _why_. Indeed, some wondered how it was even physically possible for her to leave him: they'd spent the last two-and-a-half years glued to each other's sides, finishing each other's sentences, laughing, bickering, sparring and looking at each other with an adoration they no longer bothered to even try to conceal.

The ladies in hair and makeup had spoken quietly among themselves as they awaited his arrival and the second they laid eyes on him their worst suspicions had been confirmed. He was absolutely devastated. His hair was a mess, he hadn't shaved in a week, nor did it look like he'd eaten. Which could only mean MacKenzie had left _him_. But how? Why?

The women said little as they applied the electric razor to his chin and cheeks and foundation to his skin but they were heartsick on his behalf. How could she do it? How could she leave him when he needed her so desperately? Their sympathetic murmurs brought a lump to his throat but it was Karen, a hairdresser who'd known Will for years, who tipped him over the edge. She'd combed his hair so gently, had spoken to him so softly and so soothingly he'd wept.  

When they finally propped him up at the anchor desk that night his eyes were so red, his reaction time so off and his stare so vacant his publicist had to issue a statement - something about an allergic reaction to new medication. Charlie made him take another week off, which he'd spent in bed.

He can't face that darkness again.

He opens the door to the kitchen and stops in his tracks when he sees her. God, she's beautiful. Her hair is up and she's wearing a summer dress she'd scathingly described as "maternity chic."

She turns toward the sound of the door and when she sees who it is, a huge smile lights up her face. It warms his heart but he can't help remembering he'd seen a similar smile aimed at the jackass outside. Maybe not quite as intense, but close enough that a stranger wouldn't know the difference.

"There you are," she says softly, walking over to him. She stands on tiptoe to kiss the side of his mouth. "I missed you."

He doesn't respond, so she rocks back on her heels.

"Did you and Simon patch things up?"

He doesn't answer, he only stares ...  _accusingly_  ?... at her. Every muscle in his face is tense and she wonders what the fuck has gotten into him.

"Will?"

He doesn't answer.

"You forgot yourself tonight, MacKenzie," he says, staring at her intently.

His voice is surprisingly cold. Angry, even.

"Pardon?"

"The terms of our agreement. You forgot."

"What agreement?"

"The one that keeps us together."

"Isn't that our undying love?"

"So you did forget."

"Will, you're talking in riddles."

He guesses it's on him to remind her. He takes both her hands in his and steps a little closer.

"We made a pact - a long time ago. Remember? The one that spelled out the terms of our relationship? The one that says I fucking  _own_  you?"

_Ah, that._

"I remember."

"Did you think it was no longer in effect?"

"Of course it is. What's your point?"

"I won't be made a fool of again. I  _won't_."

"No one's trying to make a fool of you, Will. Why are you so angry? What is it you think I've done?"

"You let him flirt with you."

"Who?"

"That jackass - the one your brother dragged in. He's been doing it all evening and you haven't done a goddamned thing about it."

"Alex? He's had a crush on me for years. He flirts and I ignore it. That's our deal. It's nothing. He knows I'm in love with you."

"It's not _nothing_. You let him do it. You let him touch you."

"When?"

"When he brought you a drink. He touched you on the shoulder and you let him."

"What was I supposed to do? Slap his hand away? Why are you blaming me for someone else's actions?"

"I'm not blaming you. I'm saying I don't want to see it again."

"Well, perhaps you should turn away. Or put on your sunglasses. Or bury your face in a pillow."

"I'm not joking."

"I can see that. And frankly, it's ridiculous. What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing. And no one better be getting into  _you_ , either. Except me."

"No one in me but you," she repeats. "Got it. But considering all the places _your_ dick has been the last eight months, you've got a lot of nerve."

"We weren't together. And that's not the point. You belong to  _me_ , MacKenzie. Nobody else. Got it?"

"Got it. I'll say it again. What the fuck has gotten into you?"

"I didn't see it the first time. I didn't notice that things weren't okay - that you weren't -  _invested._  I'll be paying attention now."

She takes a moment to consider what he just said. Did he just intimate he's going to be _spying_ on her? The tone of his voice and the detached expression in his eyes is making it difficult to _not_ take him seriously, which is seriously interfering with her preferred approach to dealing with Caveman Will, which is to not take him seriously at all. But this. _This._ Has he lost his mind?

"Okay, okay," she says, putting her hands out and taking a step backward. "You need to back the fuck off, Will. Did you just say you'll be watching me? That you'll be waiting for me to slip up?"

He's silent because he knows he is treading on incredibly thin ice, if he hasn't fallen through already. Rationally, he knows it's not her fault if someone decides to flirt with her but that's not the part that's eating him alive. All he can think, all he can _feel_  is that he's not going to let her make a fool of him again. 

She knows him well enough to know he's not just being territorial; there's something else going on, something deeper: she can feel it, so she tries another tack.

"Will. This has obviously activated your territorial, lizard brain and I get that. But you are so much smarter than this."

"Don't try to condescend your way out of this, MacKenzie."

"I'm not trying to condescend my way out of anything because  _I_  didn't do anything. If someone decides to flirt with me, that's their problem. What was I supposed to do? Kick him in the teeth?"

"You should have told him you weren't interested because you belong to  _me_. And if you're not willing to say that, we've got a serious problem."

"And just how does one bring that up without sounding like a fucking lunatic?"

"I don't care how you do it but you need to fucking do it or I'm out."

She blinks and her jaw drops open, astonished. She couldn't possibly have heard that correctly. He can't _possibly_ be serious because if he is, where the fuck does that leave them?

"Did -" She starts, shakes her head and stops, disbelieving.  

"Did you just threaten to walk out on me -  to walk out on _our_ _daughter_ \- because someone _flirted_ with me? Did you actually just say that? Because if you did, you'd better have a time machine in your back pocket that sends your ass 60 seconds in the past so you can take it back."

He ignores her.

"I won't put up with it, Mac. I won't. I can't. You belong to _me_. No one else. _Ever._ I can't do this unless you understand that."

"I do understand that, Will, but frankly, it used to sound a lot more enticing."

She is _thisclose_ to telling him exactly what she thinks of him when she happens to glance at his face. He's tired and jealous and stressed and it occurs to her that if she allows herself to get angry, they're just going to travel down the same road they've travelled thousands of times, each of them trying to "win" instead of trying to understand or even listen to one another.

He's trying to tell her something - admittedly in the most ham-fisted, offensive and idiotic way, but what is it? What's really going on with him? She's determined to come at this from a new angle.

"Fine. You own me. We'll buy the shackles tomorrow."

"I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I - do you prefer to be joined at the wrist or the ankle?"

"I'm not going to put up with it, MacKenzie. You want a cuck? Find someone else."

Well. It's hard to come at _that_ from a place of understanding. She bites her tongue. Tries to remain serious. A cuck? As in _cuckold_? It's patently absurd. She simply can't hold it in for one moment longer. She bursts out laughing.

He pulls out his phone and stalks toward the front of the house.

"Will. _Will!_ Where are you going?" she calls after him. "Who are you calling?"

Erin? Is he calling fucking _Erin_?

If he's going to leave - when they're about to have a _baby_... No fucking way.

He thinks _he_ won't stand for it?

Fuck that.

 _She_ won't.  
  
They've found their way back to each other, accompanied by a combustive kindling of desire, anxiety and lust. One minute it's "Fuck you;" the next minute it's "Fuck me." They have to be able to sustain the swings, the ambiguity and uncertainty, without either one leaving.

"Don't you dare walk out on me, Will. Don't you _dare_."

"I'm not walking out on you. I'm going to the hotel." _Before I say or do something I can't take back. If I haven't already._ "I'll call you tomorrow."

"No!" she says, yanking his arm. "If you leave now, you'd better keep going until you hit New York. Don't bother coming back."

He stops, closes his eyes and turns around.

She takes both his hands and stares at him intently. "I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you but you need to snap out of it. Right now. And for the record, I do remember our agreement. Only it wasn't signed in blood, it was signed in love. So you'd better get in touch with the Will who made that commitment with me and put the other one back in his cage."

"I can't do this, MacKenzie. I can't always be worried you're about to take off with some other guy."

"If you choose to worry about that, that's on you. Not me. And you'd be a fool to waste another second on that thought because it's never going to happen. _Ever._ Despite the fact that you're acting like a complete ass right now, I have no interest in anyone else. Zero. I have made myself sick these last eight months, dying to have you back again. _Dying._ Do you think I would do anything to jeopardize that?"

"It didn't stop you before."

"What we have didn't exist then. It hadn't been invented yet. Maybe for you but not for me."

"I can't stand it, Mac. It makes me crazy. I can't think -"

Well, that explains part of it, anyway. Not all of it, perhaps, but some. She's sure of it.

"We should have gone to the hotel last night," she mutters to herself. "I can't believe I didn't see this coming."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know exactly what your problem is and I can't believe you _don't_."

"My problem? Don't try to put this on me. You let him -"

"Shut it."

She stands on tiptoe again to get right in his face.

"You know what your problem is, Will? You need to get _laid_."

"Give me a break - "

"Listen to me," she says, putting her fingers to his lips. "I may not have seen you for the last eight months but I know exactly what a sexually frustrated Will McAvoy looks like. It used to happen sometimes, remember? We'd get busy, we wouldn't have enough sex and you'd go on a jealous rampage, thinking every man in the world wanted me. I can feel it, Will. It's radiating off you."

"You don't know -"

"Oh, I do know. Can I be frank? Can I be explicit with you?"

"Considering where my dick was last night? Yeah, I think you can be explicit with me."

"Exactly. This never would have happened if we'd gone to the hotel. You know why?"

She reaches up and motions for him to bring his head down. He does and when she speaks, her breath is hot in his ear and her lips are skating across his earlobe and the words that come out of her mouth inflame him even more.  
  
"Because you'd have pumped so much cum into me by now you'd be too blissed out to care."

She stands down.

"Daniel Day-Lewis could proposition me right in front of you and you wouldn't give a shit."

"Daniel Day-Lewis?"

"Whomever. Am I wrong?"

He hates to admit it but several arrows are pointing to the fact that she's not: the tension in his body, the perpetual hard-on he's had all day, the fact that he can't stand another man even looking in her direction. She's right. He's seen this movie before. They both have.

"No," he says aloud. Still, he's not ready to let her off the hook, needing to find a way to justify the strength of his emotions. His feelings are as raw now as they were eight months ago and a single thought percolates in his brain: "I can't go through it again. I can't. I can't."

"But that doesn't change the fact that you let him do it."

"Will," she says, struggling to hold on to her temper. "I cannot control what someone else does. I love you. Only you."

He doesn't respond and she looks at him closely. He's angry, yes, but his eyes are bright, as if he's near tears.

"Billy," she says gently. "What's really going on here? This isn't you."

The dam breaks.

"I don't know. I just know I can't go through it again. I couldn't get out of bed for a week after you left, Mac. I couldn't function. I cried in _hair and makeup_ for fuck's sake. They had to put me on administrative leave twice. I can't go through that again," he repeats. "I have to know that I can trust you. That we're in this together. That you're not going to make a fool of me again."

Her heart breaks for him.

"I _won't_. I swear on my life, Billy, I _won't_. We're in this together. For life. But the kind of proof you're looking for isn't going to happen in a day. It’s going to take months – maybe years – of me proving, day in and day out that you can trust me. In the meantime, you have to have faith in me and in us and in this thing of ours." She gestures between them. "Which is rock solid, okay? I love you so much, Will. If you could see inside my heart for one second you would know you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

She takes a step toward him and he wraps his arms around her.

"You own me, Will," she says, looking up at him. "I belong to you and you alone. I am yours to worship for the rest of our lives. Are we clear?"

He can feel himself starting to relax, the curative effect of having her in his arms. And as the seconds tick by, as he feels the warmth of her body against his, he begins to believe he can have it: faith.

He drops a kiss into her hair. 

"Yes. I'm sorry. I've been a dick. Again. Can we go to the hotel now? Please? "

"Okay. Can you get our things and call the cab? I'll go tell everyone we're leaving."

"Okay."

Will heads upstairs and she heads back to the kitchen but before she can make her way outside, Liv stops her.

"You're not going with him."

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard what he said. About owning you. That's fucked up, Mac."

"You were eavesdropping? Christ, how much did you hear?"

"Everything."

"God, why didn't you say something?"

"Because I don't trust him. And I wanted to know the real story. I didn't know the half of it before but I do now and let me tell you something, Mac. It is _fucked. up_."

"You don't know anything, Liv."

"You signed some kind of agreement with him? That says he owns you?"

"No. _No_. Liv. I know you're worried about me but don't be. I know what I'm doing."

"You thought you knew what you were doing with Brian and I thought _he_ was an asshole. Will takes "asshole" to a whole new level."  
  
"Did somebody say my name?" Will says as he enters the kitchen, dragging their bags behind him.

Liv ignores him.

"Mackie. You're not thinking clearly. I know you love him but this is fucked up. And you," she says, turning on Will. "You think you _own_ my sister?"

"Liv -" Will starts.

"No, Will," MacKenzie says. "Let me handle this. Listen to me. It's not like that." How to explain to a third-party the strange, fractious, grandstanding aspect of her relationship with Will? That they take turns dominating each other? 

"That's what all abused women say, Mackie. I'm not letting you go with him. It's not safe. Think of the _baby_."

That Liv thinks - for even a second - that Will would ever harm a hair on MacKenzie's head - or their child's - Christ. This situation has gotten completely out of hand. How best to defuse it?

He's startled from his thoughts by Liv's voice. It's high and shrill and she's trying desperately to get the attention of a male McHale.

"Dad! Peter! Simon! Ted!"

"Calm the fuck down, Liv!" MacKenzie exclaims, clapping her hand over her sister's mouth.


	11. Chapter 11

The external door flies open and Ted, Simon and Lord McHale rush up the steps into the kitchen, accompanied by Lady McHale and two of MacKenzie's sisters-in-law.

"What's going on?" Ted says, looking from one sister to another. "Mackie, are you alright?!"

"Everything's fine. Liv thought there was a problem because she misinterpreted something but there isn't - you can go back -"

"Stop trying to protect him." Liv says impatiently. "I didn't misinterpret anything." She addresses the rest of her family. "Will wants to -"

MacKenzie cuts her off.

" _Yes_ , you  _did_ , Liv," MacKenzie says through gritted teeth before appealing to her parents. "It's not a big deal. You can all go back to enjoying your evening. Will and I are going to -"

"No, you're not." Liv says, grabbing her by the arm. "You're staying right here. Will wants to take Mackie to the hotel but we can't let him. She's not _safe_ with him!"

“Liv - " Will starts but MacKenzie cuts him off.

“Don't be ridiculous, Liv! You misinterpreted what he said!"

"What on Earth are you talking about, Liv?" Her father says in confusion. He glances at Will and thinks of all the arguing and screaming he's heard in the last 24 hours. He's never had any reason to worry about MacKenzie's safety before but if Liv overheard something ...

"Sir - " Will tries again but this time, it's Lady McHale who cuts him off.

"What is going  _on_?" their mother asks.

"Will said he _owns_ her, Mum. I didn't misinterpret that. He said - "

"Liv, I meant - " Will tries to explain. As if that's even possible. What the fuck was he thinking? The answer is, he wasn't.

"Will, please." MacKenzie says, dismissing him. "I'll handle this."

"He said - " Liv tries again but MacKenzie gets right in her face.

"Liv, if you. don't. stop. talking. right. now, so help me  _God_ _._  I will _never._ speak to you again."

The last thing MacKenzie needs is for the rest of her family to hear what Will said. They wouldn't understand. Not the way Liv would tell it, anyway.

That shuts Liv up. She looks at MacKenzie with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. She's always been the big sister, able to push MacKenzie around when required. She's not used to a MacKenzie who fights back. She decides to hold her tongue. For now.

MacKenzie looks at Will. He needs to leave and let her deal with this because his presence is only going to inflame things further.

"Will, go to the hotel," she commands him. "I'll meet you there later."

Will shakes his head. "No, Mac. I got you into this mess. I'm not going to leave you alone to clean it up."

Liv looks at him in surprise. He gets a couple of points for staying. Maybe a point-and-a-half.

"It's okay—I can handle it."

"I know you can. But you shouldn't have to."

"It'll be alright. I'll see you later, okay? I love you. Go."

He has no idea what to do. Does she want him to go or does she secretly want him to stay? He wants to stay, he doesn't want her to have to face her family alone but is his presence only going to make things worse? And if he disregards her wishes now, he suspects it will only give Liv more ammunition.

He wavers.

"Mac, what do you really want me to do?"

She stands on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

"You should go. If you stay, it's just going to make things worse. I'll see you later, okay?" She kisses him on the cheek.

He looks at the faces of her family. Since Ted and Simon are scowling at him, he guesses he's guilty until proven innocent as far as they're concerned. Their wives are eyeing him with suspicion and he gets the feeling Lord and Lady McHale could go either way. That just leaves Peter and Harriet, latecomers to this particular party, having just come in. Harriet catches Will's eye, points her thumb in Liv's direction and rolls her eyes. She winks and gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"Okay, call me when you're ready," he says to MacKenzie, kissing her cheek. "I'll come back and pick you up."

"I'll bring her," Harriet offers. Liv gives her a withering stare but Harriet just shrugs. She has no idea what set Liv off but Harriet knows Liv's always been melodramatic. She's never had much of a sense of humor, either, which makes her prone to taking things too literally. Besides, Harriet's seen enough of Will this afternoon to know he'd cut off his own arm before he'd ever hurt MacKenzie. She also knows that whatever it is between the two of them burns white hot and that whatever crap they give each other is just foreplay.

"Thank you for ... dinner," Will says awkwardly to MacKenzie's parents. "Call me," he says to MacKenzie.

"I will."        

He turns and walks out. Jesus, he's really fucked things up this time. What was he thinking? Talking to her like that where anyone could hear them? Christ, if he was Liv and heard what he'd said to MacKenzie, he'd be worried, too. Maybe that's the problem. He didn't think twice about letting his id run free, saying things no one else would understand. He  _has_  to get it together.

He brings his bag out to the front (he leaves MacKenzie's inside in case she changes her mind about coming with him and at this point, he wouldn't blame her) but decides against going to the hotel - he'll wait for her on the front steps instead.

MacKenzie watches him go and turns back to her family.

"What is this about, MacKenzie?" her father says.

"He said - " Liv starts to interject.

"What did I say, Liv?" MacKenzie snaps. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, so _not. another._ _word_ _."_

"MacKenzie, stop cursing," her mother says firmly. "There are children nearby. Let's go into the sitting room and you can tell us what this is about."

"Mum - " Liv says.

"Hush, Olivia. I want to hear what happened from Mackie. We'll hear from you later."

MacKenzie stalks into the sitting room with her family behind her. And because Will is sitting on the front steps, and the window is open, he can hear every word.  _Finally_ , he thinks with relief. At least now he's the eavesdropper instead of the eavesdroppee. He toys with the idea of moving away or announcing his presence but decides against it. MacKenzie needs to feel like she can speak freely, especially after the shit he just pulled.

"Liv overheard a private conversation I had with Will," she begins. "Because she was _eavesdropping_  and didn't have the decency to make her presence known."

Will squirms uncomfortably on the front steps, knowing he really,  _really_ should announce himself. Unfortunately, he's far too interested in knowing how MacKenzie really feels: what she tells him is one thing. What she tells her family about him may be quite another.

"I wanted - " Liv starts.

"Hush, Olivia," her mother repeats.

"She heard Will say he owns me and that I belong to him."

"He didn't just say he _owned_ her—he said—"

"Liv—shut it.  _Now._  I'll tell them what he said but I'll give them some goddamned context when I do."

She takes a deep breath and scans the sea of faces in front of her. She's a grown woman, free to make her own decisions, but she can't let Liv poison the well where Will is concerned.

"Will was angry because he thought Alex was flirting with me and I hadn't done enough to dissuade him. He told me I'd obviously forgotten an agreement we'd made, which is that he owns me in perpetuity. Naturally, Liv extrapolated from that that Will is a domestic abuser but what she doesn't know is the story behind it. Which I will now reveal ..." she says, looking at her family, most of whom are clearly siding with Liv. "... so you don't  _also_  think Will is a loon."

"Go on, Mackie." Her mother says. "We're listening."

"The first time Will told me he was in love with me he said it was immutable. Irrevocable. A physical law of the universe. He said he felt as if I "owned" him. And when I fell in love with him I told him I felt the same way. So we had this—this— _ceremony_ —and it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud but we were in love and it was really rather sweet—we had this ceremony where we vowed that we would always belong to each other. Only to each other. He owns me and I own him. We own _each other_ , okay? It's mutual."

"He was angry and jealous when he reminded me about it just now and that's what Liv heard and that's why she's worried but I am telling you now that there is _nothing_ to be worried about. Will can be overbearing when he's angry but that is only to hide the fact that deep down inside he is as soft as a marshmallow. We have gotten into some ridiculously heated arguments over the years but I have never once been afraid of him. He would never do anything to hurt me. Ever. You don't know that because you don't know him that well. I do."

"I believe her," Harriet offers. "Will wouldn't hurt a fly. He's all talk and no action. Except for - well, _you know,_ Mackie," she says, raising her eyebrows. "Peter and I were with them all afternoon and he waited on her hand and foot. If she so much as adjusted herself in her seat he was there in an instant, asking if she needed anything."

"Well, that's hardly surprising, Harriet," Liv says dismissively. "He wants to make sure the vessel that's carrying the thing he really wants—which is the  _baby_ —is shipshape."

"How  _dare_  you?" MacKenzie says to her sister. "Where do you get off saying that?"

"If he loves you so much, where has he been the last eight months? Wake up, Mackie. He doesn't care about you. The only reason he's here is because of the baby."

That brings MacKenzie up short because that's exactly what he'd told her.

"I know you love him," Liv says, putting her hand on MacKenzie's forearm. "But I don't want to see you get hurt—" she says earnestly. "Any more than you already have been. He doesn't love you, Mackie. It's the _baby_ he wants."

 _That's it_ , Will thinks, standing up and marching into the house. He is not going to put up with any more of Liv's crap.

All eyes turn to Will when he appears in the doorway.

"I was waiting for you," he says to MacKenzie. "Outside. On the steps. The window's open," he says, gesturing toward it, "So I heard what you said—eavesdropping's all the rage, you know," he says pointedly to Liv.

"Look, Liv. You don't like me. You never have. That's okay. I'm not crazy about you, either. I shouldn't have said that but that's not the point. The point is this: you don't know what you're talking about. The reason I didn't come after her is _not_  because I didn't love her. It's because I'd convinced myself she never loved me and that it had all been a lie."

He looks at MacKenzie, who's standing there looking a little too uncertain for his liking. "As for whether I'm secretly only here for the baby; that's just laughable. Of course, I want the baby but I want MacKenzie just as much. I always have."

MacKenzie knows that but ... he didn't care that she was stabbed. He planned never to see her again. He only came because of the baby. If it weren't for the baby, he wouldn't be here.

"What she said," MacKenzie says, gesturing towards Liv. "That's exactly what you told me. That you wouldn't even _be_ here if it weren't for the baby."

"Yeah, that's why I showed up but that's not why I wanted to get back together with you. I wanted to do that because I love you. Maybe it took me an hour to admit it last night but I knew it the second I saw you again. Mac, we've had this conversation at least three times since I got here and I am happy to have it a fourth but nothing has changed since the last time. I'm with you because I love you. Liv doesn't know that but  _I_  do. And  _you_  do."

"I do," she says, walking over to him. "I  _do_  know." He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head and scans the sea of faces in front of him before settling on Liv's. "Look, Liv. I know you're worried about your sister. And if I didn't know me, if I didn't know that what comes out of my mouth sometimes is so ... so ..."

"Asinine?" MacKenzie supplies.

"Yes ... " he says, "I'd be worried, too. I shouldn't have spoken that way. That's how we talk to each other in private and she doesn't take me seriously and I forget how it must sound to an outsider."

"Yes, well, I still don't trust you," Simon says.

"Alright, Simon, that's enough." Lord McHale says. "Your mother and I have been privy to several heated arguments between Will and your sister in the last 24 hours and I am not worried about her physical safety. Yes, they have a volatile relationship but they keep it in the realm of words."

Mackenzie squeezes Will's hand and approaches her father to give him a hug.

"Thanks, Dad," MacKenzie says. "We're going to go now, okay?" She turns back to Will. "Will, can you call the cab?"

"I can take you - " Harriet offers.

"No, that's okay -" Will says quickly. He just wants to be alone with her.

MacKenzie ignores Liv and hugs everyone else goodbye.

"Sleep well, Mackie," Harriet winks.

"I will."

 


	12. Chapter 12

Will grabs MacKenzie's bag and they haul themselves outside to wait for the cab. The late summer air is suddenly crisp and cool and MacKenzie shivers in her sleeveless dress. Will puts his arm around her. "Do you have a sweater in your bag?"

"No."

"I'll go get it for you."

"No. The house will swallow you up. Just put your arm around me, okay?"

He does and she leans contentedly into him.  _What a day_ , she thinks.  _What a fucking day it's been._ He drops a kiss into her hair.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Just exhausted. Liv and Simon are so fucking judgmental and high-and-mighty—I hate having to defend us to people who don't have the first clue about us. I just want to be with you, Will," she says, looking up at him. "I know what we have."

"To be fair, Mac, they've been worried sick about you for months. And what I said was pretty inflammatory. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. I'm sorry. I don't blame Liv for getting the wrong idea."

"That's just you being territorial. It doesn't mean anything," she says dismissively.

"That's because you never take me seriously. What if you did? You might not be able to let it go so easily."

She yawns. "Why would I want to do that? Taking you seriously would cause no end of trouble."

He smiles into her hair, reminded once again of how absolutely perfect she is for him: everyone else he's ever been with has either been angry or cowed by his mercurial moods.

By the time they arrive at the hotel, MacKenzie is sagging against him. He helps her out of the cab and gets the key to their room. When he unlocks the door, he sits her on the couch while he brings their bags. She looks around the room. Millie booked them into the penthouse suite ( _which hopefully comes with lots of soundproofing_ , Will thinks). It has a separate bedroom, living and sitting area. "This is nice, Will."

"Millie did it - I'll have to thank her."

MacKenzie stands in front of him, looking lost. "I'm tired," she says softly. "Can we just go to bed?"

"Of course. I'll go turn the bed down. Wait here." He opens the bedroom door, cursing as he trips over the corner of a ... _suitcase?_ ... and lands on his knee.

"Fuck!" he exclaims.

“Are you alright?” someone ahead of him says.

He looks up, confused, and is stunned to see _Erin_ getting off the bed, fully-clothed ( _thank God)_ , and heading towards him.

“Here,” she says, offering him her hand. “Sorry about that. Are you alright?” she repeats.

He takes her hand and gets to his feet, staring at her. Could this day get any more surreal? He feels like he's just wandered into a parallel universe, with MacKenzie in one and Erin in the other. Which one is he supposed to be in again? 

"Erin, what the fuck are you doing here!?" he says, a little more harshly than he intends, fuelled by knee pain and the knowledge that this is _not_ going to go over well with MacKenzie.

Erin winces.

"Sorry. How did you get in?" he says, a little more kindly, a little more gently.

"Your ... assistant ... put me on the reservation," she says sheepishly. This is not going well. 

He sighs.  _Emily._   _What was she thinking?_

"Okay, okay," he says, trying to calm down. "Is everything alright? What's going on? Why are you here?"

"Will, are you alright? I heard a thud ...who are you talking to?" MacKenzie says from behind him.  _Christ._  He hobbles to the bedroom door, trying desperately to intercept her before she can see what  _isn't_  going on. Too late. She stands at the door to the bedroom, mouth agape.

"Apparently, we have a visitor," Will says lightly, rubbing his knee. "MacKenzie, this is Erin. Erin, MacKenzie."

_What the hell ...?!_

" _Really_?" MacKenzie says, looking from Erin to Will, her eyes flashing. "Is there something you want to tell me, Will? Perhaps ...  _why_  she's here?"

"You know, I'm not really sure," he says, with feigned casualness. "We were just ... getting to that when you came in." He turns back to Erin. "So ... tell us. What brings you to London and to ... uh ... this suite, in particular?"

"I came to see you," Erin says. "I wanted to talk to you. About your plans. May I speak with you privately?"

"No, you may not." MacKenzie says firmly. 

"Will?" Erin says.

He looks from MacKenzie to Erin. "Why don't you get your things and we'll talk out there," he says, motioning to the living area in the next room. He takes MacKenzie by the elbow. "Mac? Shall we?" 

He quickly closes the bedroom door behind them and he and MacKenzie take their places in the living room.

"What the  _fuck_ , Will?" MacKenzie asks, incredulously.

He laughs. He can't help it.

"I have no idea what she's doing here, Mac, but it's funny. It's fucking  _hilarious_. We can't catch a break. First it's your family. Now Erin. The universe is conspiring against us. What's next? A tsunami?" He puts his arm around her. "If things get ugly, just hold on to the nearest branch and I'll come back for you."

"Oh, things are going to get ugly, alright. You can count on it."

"Don't be upset. It's funny. It really is."

"I'm not laughing."

"You should be. It's hilarious."

The bedroom door opens and Will is just about to yank his arm from around MacKenzie's shoulders when he stops himself because that's not going to go over well. With MacKenzie, anyway.  _When two worlds collide_ , he thinks. He feels incredibly guilty: yesterday, the woman standing in the doorway was his sort-of girlfriend and now it's the woman next to him. When he sees the pained look on Erin's face, his mirth evaporates. He cares for Erin. He really does. She doesn't deserve this. He forces himself to unwind his arm from around MacKenzie's shoulders (slowly, purposefully) and knows he's going to pay for that very soon. He stands up and walks over to Erin.

"Hey. So ... where are you staying?" he says, with false casualness.

"Not here, I guess."

"Right. Let's go downstairs and get you a room. We'll talk on the way."

He hobbles over to where MacKenzie's sitting on the couch. "Mac, I'll be right back, okay?"

MacKenzie looks at him. Does he really expect her to give Erin the chance to change his mind? No fucking way. Not on her watch.

"Oh, please don't leave on my account," she says pleasantly. "I'd like to hear what Erin has to say about your plans. I'm interested. Really."

"I'd prefer to speak with Will alone," Erin says.

MacKenzie knows she's being ridiculous. She's 95%-well,90% sure Will is in love with her but that still leaves room for Erin to sink her hooks into him.

"I imagine you would but ... I'm afraid that's out of the question." MacKenzie says.

"Really?" Erin says, addressing Will. "Will? What would  _you_  like to do?"

"Excuse me, Erin," MacKenzie says, waving her hand to get Erin's attention. "According to the terms of our agreement - Will's and mine, I mean - and I'm sure he'll back me up on this - you should be talking to me when you're talking to him."

Will snorts. "Mac, I get the irony here but I'll be right back. I promise."

"No, actually, Billy," she says sweetly. "You _won't_. Because if you leave with her, don't bother coming back." 

"Alrighty, then," he says brightly, turning to Erin. "Can you please give us a minute? Maybe wait in the hall?”

She nods and walks out.

Will watches her go and turns back to MacKenzie. Maybe it's just the three beers he had at dinner but he's finding the whole thing enormously amusing. "Did you enjoy that, Mac? Is payback sweet?"

"I don't know why you're laughing, Will. I'm angry."

He sits down beside her and loops an arm over her shoulder.

"Honey, I know you are. And I gotta say, I love how territorial you are. I don't know why, but I do. And you acting like this is actually really good because it's given me a taste of just how obnoxious I was at your parents' house," he says jovially. "Here's the thing, though: I was kind of with  _her_  until yesterday. I owe her this, okay?"

"What?" she says, ignoring the inference. "What exactly do you _owe_ her? The chance to change your mind?"

"Listen to me," he says, turning toward her and putting a hand on each shoulder. He looks her straight in the eye. "I am _not_ going to change my mind. I'm with _you_. I am in love with _you_."

"Will, use that big, glorious brain of yours. She was waiting in the bedroom when we came in just now. _Not_ out here. Which can only mean she was hoping to seduce you."

"Or ... that her back was bothering her. She can only tolerate sitting for so long."

"How convenient." She looks down at her lap, thinking, and picks at a thread on her dress. When she looks up again, he sees her eyes are bright. "I don't want you to leave with her, Will." she says quietly. "I don't trust her." 

MacKenzie is angry and jealous and insecure and the irony isn't lost on her, either, but Alex wasn't a threat. Erin _is_.

"Hey, come here," he says pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. "Do you trust me?"

"I don't know."

"You can," he says. "'Cause you own me in a way no one else ever has, okay?"

God. Once again, she's being asked to take her own medicine. Fine. If she wants him to trust her, she has to be willing to trust him.

"Fine," she says, wiping her eyes. "When will you be back?"

"Fifteen minutes? A half hour? However long it takes to get her a room."

"Okay."

He kisses her goodbye and opens the door. Erin is standing in the hall, looking at him with eyebrows raised.

"She's a real piece of work," she says, when he closes the door.

"She is," he says and once again, he can't help smiling.

"You don't mind? Being treated like someone's property? I'm surprised, Will. I'm really, really surprised you'd go for that."

"There's a backstory to that I won't get into but ... I wouldn't take that conversation literally."

"I shouldn't have come," Erin says. "It's obvious you two - "

"Let's get you a room and then we'll talk, okay?" Will says. They may be in London but Americans are all over the place and he doesn't want to end up in _Page Six_ tomorrow.

They're silent as they make their way to the reservations desk. Erin gets a room at the other end of the hotel and they make their way there in silence. When they arrive, Erin opens the door and Will slides her case inside.

"Have a seat," she offers.

He hesitates, then does as she asks. The more he looks at her and the more time he spends with her, the more his earlier humor evaporates and the guiltier he feels. There's something else there, too. Erin is beautiful and funny and smart and he's going to miss her. She's a completely different animal than MacKenzie but one he's come to appreciate over the last couple of months.

He has to be very careful here. 

_Very._

"I don't know why I came," she says. "It was stupid. I just thought - I just thought we had something - and I didn't want to let it go without trying but you're having a baby with her and obviously that's going to trump everything else. As it should. You can go back to her. I'm sure she'll be zapping your collar if you don't. I'll be fine."

"Erin. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I really - I really do care about you." Instinctively, he reaches for her hand. He only realizes what he's done a split-second later.  _Get it together, man!_ She looks at him in surprise and he places it gently back on the table. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay." She picks his hand up, smooths her fingers over his palm. "You care for me," she repeats. "But not the way you care for her."

"I've been in love with her for years. I didn't want to be when we broke up but I am. I knew it the second I saw her last night. God," he says, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Has it only been a night? It feels like a lifetime. I don't mean it that way - it's just - it's been a long fucking 24 hours."

"Has it?"

"Yeah - we've been through the wringer - a few times."

"So it's not working out the way you'd hoped?"

"No—it is; we're fine; it's her family."

"They don't like you?"

"They used to. Now ... not so much. Half of them, anyway. And they're not shy about letting it be known."

"Why don't they like you?"

"They think I deserted her. Which I did. Unintentionally but ... I did. Look, I'm sure you don't want to hear my problems. What can I do for you? Why are you here?"

"I told you. I wanted to see if we could salvage this thing."

"No. I'm sorry. We can't. There's just no way. "

"Because your morals won't permit it?"

"Because I made a commitment to her."

Saying  _Because I'm in love with her_  would be a little too cruel.

"Sounds romantic as hell."

He shrugs, unwilling to say anything that might hurt her. "I should go."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Erin."

"I see. So you can just go from fucking me two days ago, from telling me you wanted to stay in bed with me all day, though of course  _not_  telling me you love me ... to fucking  _her_. Without batting an eye."

"It wasn't like that - you and she - you inhabit two completely different worlds in my head. One has nothing to do with the other."

"You mean you can compartmentalize when it suits you."

"I suppose."

"Did you tell her you love her? While you were fucking her?"

"Erin - "

"You did. Great."

Maybe he _does_ have to spell it out.

"Look. Erin, I care about you but I'm in love with her."

"Even though she cheated on you."

"She did it before she knew how she felt about me and she believed all this shit her ex told her about me. She was ... insecure ... and ... look, it doesn't matter."

"So you're resigned to your fate. You have no agency of your own."

"Of course I do, but I'm a realist. She's going to be in my life and no matter who I'm with or how much I care for them, every single time I see her I'll be wishing I was with her. That's just the way it is. It's not something I can talk myself out of. And I don't want to. She makes me happy. She always - well, _mostly_ always - has."

"Okay," she says. "I don't get it but if that's the way you feel ... I sure as hell don't want to be with someone who's wishing I was someone else."

He nods. "I should go. Have a good night and a good flight back. Take care."

He gets up and heads for the door. He's just turning the doorknob when he feels her hand on his shoulder.

"Wait. One last hug?"

He was so close to escaping. So close. Fine. He guesses a hug won't hurt. He turns around. She puts her arms around him and he does the same. Almost immediately he tries to release her but she doesn't let go and he wonders how the hell he's going to extricate himself from this predicament gracefully. At the same time, he's trying _not_ to smell her hair, trying not to do anything he would have done 48 hours ago, trying not to _think_ anything he would have thought 48 hours ago because he's living in a whole new world now, which is disconcerting as hell.

Erin pulls back to look up at him and before he can stop her she's leaning in and pressing her lips against his. Fuck. Her lips are warm and smooth and he absolutely, definitely does  _not_ return the kiss but holy fuck is she a good kisser. Unfortunately, his back is against the door so there's nowhere to go but sideways so he jerks to the side as if she'd electrocuted him and her lips trail across his cheek to settle beneath his ear. She starts doing that thing she knows drives him crazy, the thing he's absolutely going to have to tell MacKenzie about and fuck.  _Fuck._

"Erin. Stop." he says as she continues to nuzzle his ear.

"You wouldn't have said that 48 hours ago," she says and her breath is hot against his skin and her lips are soft and goddammit it even though he knows his life is upstairs now, he's still attracted to her and his head is spinning and just.  _Fuck._  Fuck.

He grabs her shoulders and forcefully pushes her away from him.

"You're right. I wouldn't have but I'm living in a whole new world now. And that's where I've got to stay."

"Actually, you don't. You have a choice."

"I really don't."

Christ, he _has_ to get out of here.

"Erin, I'm gonna tell you something - not because I'm trying to be rotten but because I get the feeling you don't believe me. I am in love with MacKenzie and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her. I wish you nothing but the best but this has to end here. I'm sorry. Goodbye."

Before she has a chance to respond, he turns the door handle and bolts into the hallway.

_What the fuck just happened?_


	13. Chapter 13

He weighs his options.

Will MacKenzie be able to smell Erin on him? He certainly hadn't been able to when the roles were reversed but maybe women have stronger noses. Pregnant women, especially.

A shower. He needs to take a shower—just in case. He'll do that as soon as he gets back to their room. Crap. He can't do that: MacKenzie's going to be suspicious if he shows up and that's the first thing he wants to do.

What can he do?

The gym. He'll shower in the gym. _What floor did the guy at the front desk say it was on?_ He can't remember. He looks at his watch. He's been gone 22 minutes. Does he have time to find the gym, shower and be back in their suite in eight minutes? Yes, if he doesn't wash his hair.  _No, you have to wash your hair! What if Erin was wearing perfume!?_   Was she? He was so addle-brained he can't fucking remember that, either. No. If MacKenzie feels even one damp tendril of hair on his head she's going to know something's up and go ballistic. He can't risk it. Wait. Maybe hedoesn't have to get his hair wet? Maybe they have shower caps in men's showers?

Fuck. That's not going to work, either. There's simply not enough time to do all that, beat a path to their room and pretend nothing happened. Shit.

A thought bubbles to the surface.

Does he dare reveal that Erin kissed him? He doesn't want to but ... maybe he should? Maybe she'd want to know? If MacKenzie finds out another way, by smelling Erin on him for instance, she's absolutely going to lose her shit. Plus, isn't he obligated to tell her under the terms of the "No secrets" and "No lying about anything important" clauses? He idly wonders if Erin's kisses could be considered either. More importantly, whether there's a way to spin this so they would  _not_ be considered either. He guesses the answer is "no," so he's pretty much fucked. Which is further bolstered by his own internal—if unwelcome—acknowledgement that he'd certainly be pissed if that jackass friend of Peter's had kissed MacKenzie and she didn't tell _him._

Fine. He should tell her. There's no getting around that. Still, he really, really doesn't want to because he doesn't want to upset her. Okay, maybe he just doesn't want to deal with an upset MacKenzie but who's splitting hairs?

So ... maybe honesty really is the best policy? In this particular instance? Ha! It sure as fuck never has been before. 

Not that he did anything wrong, he reassures himself: that's all on Erin. Sure, he'd enjoyed it a little too much but is that a crime? Isn't that just physiology? It's not his fault that kisses to the ear release dopamine. It's not his fault the skin on his neck is extra-thin or that the nerves are closer to the surface, which only amplifies one's enjoyment of such kisses. He didn't return the kiss, so surely that counts for something. Will it, though? In MacKenzie's mind? He thinks about what his own reaction might be if MacKenzie confessed she'd enjoyed an unwanted kiss from that jackass. He's fairly certain he'd come unglued and insist her enjoyment had to do with everything _but_ physiology. No doubt about it. _Well, that's hardly fair_ , he thinks to himself. Especially now that the shoe is on the other foot. 

He sighs. The only way through this is through it. He _has_ to tell her. Fuck.

He arrives at their suite, takes a deep breath and opens the door. MacKenzie is still sitting on the couch, exactly where he left her. She's spent the last 30 minutes imagining what he and Erin might be getting up to if Erin has her way.

"Well? Who did you pick?" she says, standing up.

"You," he says, not quite looking at her as he heads for the mini-bar.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he calls over his shoulder.

He won't look at her. Which can only mean something happened.

"What happened, Will? Something happened."

"Nothing happened." Nothing _did_ happen, he reminds himself. Erin kissed him and he left. Period. Then why does he feel so guilty? Because even though he loves— _adores_ —MacKenzie, even though she is absolutely the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he enjoyed it. What does that say about him? He has no fucking idea. He knows he should tell her but he is, first and foremost, a coward. At least when it comes to arousing MacKenzie McHale's suspicions and/or wrath. "How are you feeling?"

"Don't "nothing" me, Will. You won't look at me," she says.

"Mac," he says. Nothing happened." He scans the contents of the fridge and grabs a juice for her and a can of Diet Coke for himself. As he turns back around to hand her the bottle, he forces himself to look her in the eye. "Is this okay or do you want something else?"

"I want the truth," she says, taking the bottle from him and placing it on the counter. He turns and heads back towards the sitting room. "You've been gone 30 minutes."

He looks at his watch as he sits down on the couch. "27."

She stands in front of him, hands on hips, her eyes boring holes into him. "Did you fuck her?"

"No, I did not  _fuck_  her," he says indignantly. "Jesus Christ, MacKenzie. What do you take me for?"

"Someone who's unduly influenced by others. Just like me. I want the truth, Will. And I'm going to keep after you until you give it to me, so you might as well cough it up now. Tell me what happened. I won't get angry."

Now he can turn the tables, though his motives for doing so are a mystery. Even—especially—to himself. "Bullshit. You always get angry. You don't want to hear the truth about anything unless it's tied up with a neat bow. Sometimes things come in shades of grey, Mac. Which is why I can never be truly honest with you about what's going on in my head. And maybe that's the way it is for all couples. Is honesty always really the best policy?" He snorts. "It sure as fuck never has been for us."

Is he talking to himself or her now? Jesus Christ, he has to get it together. 

_It's obviously worse than she thought. What the fuck did they do?_

"You're scaring me, Will. Please tell me what happened. And you should know that if you lie and I find out about it later, I don't know if we'll be able to come back from that."

_Shit._

She's staring at him with fear and apprehension and he hates that he's doing that to her so he stands up, puts an arm around her and motions for her to sit on the couch. She does and he joins her, taking her hand. He runs his fingers through his hair as he considers what he wants to say.

"Nothing major happened. It just—it got messy. In my head. For like ten seconds. I mean, God, Mac—two nights ago, she and I—"  _were in bed together "—_ went out to dinner. We have a relationship—nothing like the one you and I have—but we have one. And she's here and you're here and I feel like I have fucking whiplash. It's like— _which world am I in_ , you know?"

She wants to be pissed but she actually understands. Much more than she'd like to. She'd felt the same way when she was with Brian. And Will.  _Which boyfriend am I with? How does_ this _relationship work again?_

"I understand."

He looks at her in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Because—" He lets it hang in the air. _Is she talking about how it felt when she'd been seeing both of us at the same time?_

She nods.

 _Nope. He's not going to go there._ "But here's the thing. It got messy and then I thought _—_ _what am I thinking_ _?_ _MacKenzie's the one I want to be with_ _."_

"Not—'What am I  _doing_?' You didn't  _do_  anything?"

"No ... but. She ..." He hesitates.

"She what, Will?"

"She kissed me."

_Of course she did._

"Did you kiss her back?"

"No. I—I—"

" _I—I—_ what?"

He takes her hand. "Listen. Like I said. Nothing major happened but I'm telling you in case it turns out you'd want to know—because of our whole "No secrets" deal."

Her heart is hammering in her chest but she attempts to feign equanimity. "Finish your sentence, Will. She kissed youand you _—what_?"

"I was backed up against the door, so all I could do to get away was go sideways, which made her lips skate across my cheek and she started kissing my neck and I asked her to stop but she wouldn't, so I pushed her away—it lasted ten seconds—tops."

"Ten seconds. You let her kiss you for ten seconds. That's not an insignificant amount of time, Will. It would take less than a second to push her away. You didn't because you were enjoying it."

He sighs.

"Not - _enjoying_ it, exactly. It was more like I was stunned; paralyzed. I didn't know what to do without acting like a total dick. I feel guilty enough for hurting her. So while she was doing it I just kept thinking, how the fuck am I going to get out of this gracefully? Without hurting her even more?"

"So you were simply paralyzed into inaction. You _didn't_ enjoy it."

Does he dare tell her he did? What's the point? What good can possibly come from doing that? It will only raise doubts in her mind about how he feels about her. But ... on the other hand, if he owns up to something less than flattering about himself, maybe it will prove to her that she really can trust him. And he needs for her to trust him.

"Physically—yes. But that's just physiology. Who doesn't enjoy someone kissing their neck?"

"I think that depends entirely on who's doing the kissing."

"Mac—I responded on a biological level to external stimulus. It was purely physical."

"Isn't it always?"

"No. With you it's—not just physical—it's emotional, too because we have this ... connection."

"And you don't have that with her."

"No. Look. I'm attracted to her. Physically. It feels good but—it doesn't come close to what I feel for you. When _you're_ kissing me. For example."

"And what do you feel when I'm kissing you?"

"God, everything," he says, warming to his subject. This he has no problem telling her. It's nothing but the truth. "It's the physical stuff, no question, but mostly—it's like I said—I feel so much— _love_ —for you that I can't think straight. It's like fireworks on New Year's Eve. It—I can't explain it but I just feel so connected to you. So in love with you. It's overwhelming, really. In the best possible way. It's wonderful. And I've never felt it for anyone but you, Mac."

She's silent for a moment.

"So you're choosing me because if you chose her you'd be choosing the physical but with me you're choosing both the physical and the emotional?"

"Yes."

"What happened next?"

"Like I said. I told her to stop but she didn't, so I pushed her away. I told her I was in love with you and that this—my relationship with her—had to end now. Then I wished her luck and got the hell out of there."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"What do you think I should do with this information? What would you do?"

"I would hope that you—and  _I_ —would take this information in the spirit in which it was intended. Full disclosure. And I get the irony. Again."

"Is she the one you want?"

"No. It's just surreal is all. I'm with you and that's where I want to be but I was with her two days ago and everything I would have done to her 48 hours ago is suddenly off-limits and it's just ... just weird. A mind fuck. It's hard to wrap my head around. But make no mistake, MacKenzie. You're the one I want."

"Are you telling me the whole truth?"

"Yes."

"No regrets?"

"No."

"Are you sure? If you do have them, I'd rather not find out five years from now. Please just tell me now."

He goes on an internal reconnaissance mission. How _does_ he feel about Erin? He's attracted to her. He likes her. He enjoys spending time with her. They'd have a good—if ...shallow? ... life together. The highs wouldn't be so high and the lows wouldn't be so low as the life he'll have with MacKenzie. The truth is, though, he feels more alive with MacKenzie than he ever has with anyone, as if all cylinders are firing at the same time, as if anything is possible. Erin, despite her fortitude and considerable acumen, is a little too deferential for his liking. She lets him get away with things MacKenzie never would. MacKenzie inspires him—to get off his ass and to be the best man he can be.

He looks at her. "I'm sure," he says firmly.

MacKenzie doesn't respond.

"You don't look convinced," he says.

"You went with her even though I asked you not to. That doesn't make me feel very good."

"So ... I should have thrown her overboard just to appease you? Even though you were being completely irrational?"

"I can't believe you have the nerve to say that, Will! Not two hours ago you ordered me to do the same thing to Alex—a friend I've had since _childhood_ , for Christ's sake—someone who's never been anything but wonderful to me—because _you_ were jealous—yet _I'm_ the irrational one? Give me a break. Erin is a bonafide threat to our relationship. Alex isn't -"

"Oh, yeah? Well he sure feels like one. And while we're on the subject, you were being awfully attentive to him for someone who's _not_ interested in him!"

"We're talking about Erin, Will. Not Alex."

"Well, I'd rather talk about Alex."

"So you can deflect? So you can get all hot under the collar so you don't have to acknowledge what you really feel?"

"Oh, and what is it that I really feel, Oh Wise One?"

"That you'd rather be with Erin."

"Well, you'd rather be with Alex, so I guess we're even!" Shit! That didn't come out right. "I didn't mean that, Mac," he says quickly. "I would _not_ rather be with Erin."

"Maybe your subconscious is more in touch with how you really feel than you think." She gets up, stalks to the door and throws it open. "If you'd rather be with her, just go. Go! I won't stand in your way."

He follows her to the door, quietly closes it and puts both hands on her shoulders.

"Mac. What are we doing? Why are we fighting?"

"Because you'd rather be with her. You just said so."

" _You_ said I'd rather be with her, I said you'd rather be with Alex—they go together. I was trying to be—not—funny exactly—but—I wasn't serious—it was meant as a comeback. Look. I don't want to fight with you and I don't want to have to keep having this conversation over and over and over again. Can't we just focus on what's important? Like breathing exercises and baby names?"

"I've already chosen her name and Harriet will be in the delivery room with me so you don't have to worry about it. I should go back to my parents' house," she says, starting to gather her things.

"No!" he says, halting her in her tracks. "You absolutely, positively should not. Please, Mac. Please don't. I just got you back."

"All we do is argue, Billy."

"Well, we're not going to solve anything if you leave. Stay and we'll fix this."

"Fine," she says, putting her bag back on the chair.

"You said something. You don't want me in the delivery room with you? Since when?"

"Since I found out you'd rather be with Erin."

"For fuck's sake, Mac, can you please stop saying that? I would _not_ rather be with Erin and I want to be there when the baby's born. Are you seriously thinking of not letting me? Because that is taking this whole idiotic evening too far. You have to let me be there."

"Fine. You can be there."

"Did you say you already picked her name?"

She nods.

"Well, don't I get a say? And are you going to want to stick her with one of those hyphenated last names?"

"She'll be a McAvoy. Period. I hate hyphenated names."

"What did you pick for her first name, then?" he says. He's half-dreading her reply. MacKenzie has a penchant for the unusual and he's slightly afraid she's going to want to call their daughter Vermillion or some shitty name like that.

"Rebecca."

"Becky?"

"Rebecca. Not Becky. Rebecca Ruth."

"Ruth. After my mother?"

"No, you simpleton. After _Alex's_ mother. Of course after your mother!"

"Isn't that too many Rs?"

"I like Rebecca as a first name and your mother's name happened to be Ruth. What can we do?"

"I'm touched that you want to do that but it's not necessary if it's not the right name. It's not like my mother will be offended if we don't."

"You adored your mother, Billy. Wouldn't you like a little bit of her to live on in our daughter?"

"She will live on—in her DNA. That's the way this shit works."

"You know what I mean."

"Look," Will says. "I like Rebecca. I don't mind Ruth. And I love that you want to give her my last name because I was sure you'd be lobbying hard for McHale. But forget my mother—what do _you_ want her middle name to be?"

"I like Ruth. I like the idea of carrying a little bit of your mother with her. I want her to have that connection to the past."

"Well, what about your side of the family? They're not represented."

"Have you forgotten? Liv named her daughter after my mother and Ted named his son after our dad. They're covered. Anyway, we can always change our mind if we decide it's not a good fit when we meet her. So let's wait until then, okay?"

"Okay."

The turn of their conversation has taken the emotional temperature in the room down a few notches, so she considers her options. She can keep pushing Will to convince her of his fidelity or she can accept his explanation and they can go to bed.

"Can I trust you, Will? About Erin?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to blindside me a year from now by leaving me for her?"

"No. It's always been you, Mac. And it will always be you. That's what I told her."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I said you make me happy. That I'm in love with you and that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you. All of which are true."

"Are you going to see her again? Tomorrow?"

"No. We said our goodbyes."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"Yep. I'm choosing to believe you. If you say it's over, it's over...unless that's  _not_  what you're saying. Is it?"

"It's over, Mac."

"Okay."

"Are we? Okay?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes." She leans in to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Are you ready for bed?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's get you undressed then."

He stands in front of her and slips the dress over her head. Now she's just in her maternity bra and panties and once again, he's amazed at her physical transformation. "Your pajamas - are they in your bag?"

"I didn't pack any. I didn't want anything between us," she says, getting out of her bra and panties. She's standing there, naked, in all her glory, and Will inches a tentative hand out to stroke her belly.

"Now you," she commands. "Strip."  
  
He does.

"It's just you and me now, Billy. Come to bed."

He does. She gets in first and he climbs in carefully beside her. They're facing each other, about 12 inches apart, which is far too far away for MacKenzie's liking.

"Closer," she commands and he obeys, stopping about six inches from her because he doesn't want to crowd her. "Closer," she says, and when he's finally pressing his abdomen against hers, she puts her hands in his hair and kisses him. Which makes everything that much more clear to him. This is where he belongs. This just feels _right_.

"I love you, Billy," she says when she pulls back. "So much."

"I love you, too." He kisses her forehead and burrows a little closer to her on the pillow. "Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"I'm not ready to go to sleep."

"You said you were tired."

"Not that tired. I've missed you so much, Will."

"What do you need? What can I do?"

"I want to close the distance between us. Will you make love to me? Like you used to?"

"How was that?"

"Slowly and deliberately."

"I can do that."

"Do you want to? I mean, if you don't feel like it ..."

"MacKenzie, there is nothing—and I mean _nothing_ —I would rather do at this moment than make love to you."

He raises himself on one elbow and sets to work. He starts with a kiss, slowly and sensuously using his lips in the ways that drive her mad and caressing her all over with the hand that isn't propping himself up. His lips are skating so beautifully, so deliberately against her upper lip she can't help but moan into his mouth.

"God, Billy," she breathes. He has always been so good at this. He can do the most amazing things with his lips, his mouth, his fingers—with every part of his body, really—things that never fail to reduce her to a puddle.

She gasps as he uses his teeth on the delicate flesh of her neck.

"Please—" she says urgently, desperately.

"Please what?"

"I don't know—just—I need you, Will."

Her hands are warm around him, and she strokes him gently, purposefully, as he makes his way to her breasts where he takes his time, suckling her nipples until she's crying out for him to touch her. He slips his finger inside her and she is so, so wet for him. He dots her belly with kisses, murmuring to their daughter as he does, and tries to hold it together as MacKenzie continues to bring him to a fever pitch.

"Mac, stop—I'm not going to last if you keep—" he says breathlessly. "How do you want this to end?"

"With you inside me. Kissing you. Face-to-face. Last night was good but I need to see you when you come. I don't know what's going on with you when you're behind me and I need to see you. I need to. Please, Will. Please. I need to see you."

"Honey, I don't think it's physically possible for us to do it face-to-face right now."

"It is if we move to that chair."

He quickly throws a towel on the sturdy wooden desk chair against the wall and sits down, opening his arms for her. She straddles him, staring at him intently as she bears down, but for all her wetness, his cock merely nudges her. He pushes and prods to no avail as he drags himself up and down, making her sigh and groan with pleasure. At first his thickness and the angle makes penetration seem futile but then she feels the pressure directed into her rather than against her as his cock seems to exploit a weakness. He pushes again, gently and still she holds steadfast but finally, after more movement and pressure, she gives way.

She feels a slight stretching sensation, growing with each gentle thrust. Then she quickly feels herself stretching wider and wider to accept him. The intensity of that sensation makes it seem dangerous to go further but then, as if he has his foot wedged in the door, he begins to enter her body, more and more of him invades her, filling her little by little.

They move together and he thrusts into her, firmly, again and again, robbing her of breath. As he continues, all resistance collapses, she surrenders and receives him greedily.

She is so beautiful, staring at him with love and desire and adoration. He manages to get his finger where it needs to be and she moans as he grabs the back of her head with his other hand and kisses her as they move together, finding their rhythm and she prays her legs won't give out before he empties himself within her.

Her hands are on his neck and shoulders, her eyes watching intently as his lips explore her breasts, sweet and gentle at first, and then taking more aggressive nibbles and bites that make her gasp. He moves back and forth between them, taking her engorged pink cones between his teeth, flicking them with his tongue and before long she's panting desperately, raking his shoulders, neck and head roughly with her fingernails, pulling his head tightly against her breasts as she covers the crown of his head with kisses. He continues to caress her breasts, kissing them, licking and nibbling as they rise and fall, covered with goosebumps. She moans as he pulls the fleshy tips with his teeth and lips.

She's getting close so she pulls back to look at him and they lock eyes. The connection between them is so primal, so powerful, that her pleasure is now ratcheting off the charts.

"Yes, yes, Christ, Billy. Keep doing that—oh God, I'm so close—are you? Tell me when. Tell me when you're close. God, I love you, Will. I love you so much."

She's wracked with involuntary spasms, clamping down violently on the invading shaft. It's almost too much, but there is no retreat. Instead her body reacts by driving itself back onto him hard, trying to lure him deeper and deeper.

"I love you, MacKenzie—I love you, honey. That's it, Sweetheart. That's it. So close. So close. Can you? Are you ready? I am."

"Yes, yes, now, Will. Now. Let me see you come. Let me see you. Please."

Her words, along with the sensation of fusing with this woman he loves so much, pushes him over the edge. She can feel him tighten up, his movements picking up intensity, but never losing grace or rhythm. She can hear his breathing deepen, become grunts, ever more ragged and desperate. His hands grip her more tightly, his head lifts and leans back, exposing the muscles and sinews of his neck. He gasps for air, mouth wide, trembling, shuddering, eyes rolling back into his head as he thrusts into her, spearing her.

He feels so much for her he can't contain it, can't hold back one second longer and then he's convulsing inside her and crying her name and when her cries signal she's right there, too, right there with him he brings his head up to watch her dissolve in ecstasy and she's right, she's right, seeing her face when she comes is everything he needs because it proves to him that she loves him and only him.

He clings to her, grabs the back of her head and kisses her fiercely as he empties himself within her. "Yes, honey, yes," he murmurs against her mouth. "I love you so much, Mac. I love you, I love you."

God, she loves kissing him when she comes, the way he cries out her name when he does, the way he always, always says he loves her. "I love you, too," she says, gasping into his mouth as she continues to move, wanting to draw every last drop out of him. "So much. So much."

When she finally stills on top of him, she presses her forehead against his and whispers, "That was amazing, Will. Amazing. You feel so good inside me. I want to walk around like this—joined—for the rest of my life. I want you to fuck me endlessly, to never stop pumping me full of cum. We'll never have another argument again. We'll be too relaxed, too in love to ever disagree again. Can we do that?"

He laughs. "Yes, honey, we can do that. I love you so much, Kenz. I love you.

She gives him one final kiss, clambers off him and leads him to the bed.

 


	14. Chapter 14

When MacKenzie opens her eyes, her face is pressed against Will's chest. He's got his arm around her, his face buried in her hair and she can feel his soft, deep, inhalation and exhalation of breath. She closes her eyes, breathes him in and peppers his chest with kisses. She knows she should let him sleep but he smells so sweet, so _Will_ , that she literally cannot resist. Even the knowledge that Erin is somewhere in the hotel can't dampen her mood. She's too damned happy.

Will awakens slowly and kisses her hair. "What are you doing, Sweetheart?"

"Loving you," she says, then lifts her head up to look at him. "You breathtakingly gorgeous, sexy man."

He smiles and brings his head down to press his lips against hers. When he pulls back to look at her, her eyes are shining with light and joy and he's assaulted by the memory of how haunted, how grief-stricken her eyes had looked the other night. Thank God they were able to right the ship. Thank God. His face level with hers, he reaches out to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. There it is again. That giddy, sappy, drunk feeling he only gets with her.

Apparently, the feeling is mutual. "Do you have any idea how much I love you, Will?" she whispers. "Any at all?"

"Nope," he says, snuggling more closely against her and staring into her eyes. "Tell me."

"I am _wild_ about you. _Insane._ Absolutely bonkers. I'm so happy right now that if I didn't weigh 1,000 pounds I'd be floating through London."

"Likewise, Kenz," he says, kissing her. "Likewise."  
  
"Really? You're happy, too?"

"Mmmhhh," he murmurs. "Definitely."

She puts her free arm round his neck and drags him closer to her. "I'm glad, Billy. I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Me too, Sweetheart. Me, too," he says, kissing her.

They order room service. MacKenzie eats her meal and part of Will's, which pleases him to no end. He tells her he has to call Charlie, so she tells him she's going to head downstairs to get more toothpaste from the little store tucked into the hotel.

"I need to sign something at the reservations desk," Will answers, "So I'll come find you in a few minutes."

"Okay," she says, putting her hand on the doorknob.

"Wait-" he says, walking over to kiss her. "I love you."

"I love you, too. See you in a bit."

She heads downstairs and grabs toothpaste, bottled water and some nuts for Will. She's just paid for her purchases when someone calls her name.

She turns around and of course it's Erin, looking sun-kissed and beautiful, with her long blonde hair classically coiffed. She's dressed in a sleeveless, light pink, A-line linen shift and black heels. Her legs are thin and tan and muscular and MacKenzie thinks, with much consternation, that Erin is exactly Will's type-or she was, before he fell for her.

Self-consciously, she glances down past her own enormous midriff and picks at the pocket of her unfashionable maternity pants. Fashion hasn't exactly been on her radar the last several months and while she knows Will couldn't care less about what she's wearing, she also knows a pretty, well-put-together package would certainly appeal to him subconsciously. She kicks herself for not taking more care with her appearance and vows to get her hair and nails done post-haste.

"Hello," she says, hoping her collar _isn't_ covering the hickey Will left on her neck this morning. "Well," she says, holding up her bag as if to say she's finished. "Goodbye," she says, heading for the exit.

"MacKenzie - wait." MacKenzie stops near the back of the store next to a shelf of unloved toys, and turns around.

Erin walks to where she's standing but remains silent, looking as if she's considering whether to give voice to her thoughts. This irritates MacKenzie to no end since Erin's the one who asked her to wait and only adds to the irritation she already feels at Erin's attempt to get Will back in her bed last night.

"Yes?" MacKenzie answers. Her tone is cold, clipped and aristocratic, as if she's deigning to speak with someone far beneath her.

"May I ask you something?" Erin says.

"Go ahead." She stares at Erin intently, as if daring her to say anything personal. She doesn't know this woman. She doesn't _want_ to know this woman. She just wants to take her bag of peanuts, return to her suite and climb into bed with Will.

Erin hesitates, then plows ahead.

"I care about Will-obviously-and-I don't want to see him get hurt."

MacKenzie doesn't react, just fixes Erin with an inscrutable-though clearly none-too-friendly-stare, which makes Erin bristle. MacKenzie has no one but herself to blame for Erin's involvement with Will and for her to behave so imperiously, so haughtily, as if Erin is something to be suffered through is beyond insulting. Erin cares about Will and she doesn't want to see him get hurt and if MacKenzie is just toying with him-if she's just with him because she has no other choice-well, that's an abomination, really.

Will deserves far better than that.

Erin returns MacKenzie's imperious gaze. "Do you love him? I mean, _really_ love him? Or are you just with him because you got pregnant?" The last sentence comes out with a little more sass than she intended but whatever. She doesn't care for MacKenzie's attitude.

MacKenzie bites back a heated reply. She reminds herself that Erin is hurt, that Erin loves-well, _thinks_ she loves Will. She reminds herself that she herself is the one he's going to spend the rest of his life with, so there may be a tiny bit of room to be magnanimous. She can't really blame Erin for using whatever tricks she had up her sleeve to change Will's mind; she may well have done the same thing. But in the end none of what she's telling herself matters because she's jealous of Erin: of the fact that she's so well put-together, of the fact that, as an attorney, Erin is able to share things with Will she'll never be able to share. Mostly, however, she's annoyed by the fact that Will _actively enjoyed_ having Erin's lips on him last night. Therefore, she has to put her in her place.

"Well," MacKenzie says, plastering on a fake smile. "That's quite a question from someone with whom I haven't exchanged a dozen words. Not that it's any of your business, really, but given the novelty of our situation, I suppose I'll answer: I _adore_ Will," she says firmly, though her voice cracks on "adore." She supposes that doesn't do much to bolster her image as a confident woman but she perseveres, regardless. "He's the love of my life. Pregnant or not-he's the man I'd want to be with. I'm sure you understand."

Erin doesn't miss the condescension and it pisses her off. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"Besides showing up here? Besides trying to get Will back? No, not at all."

MacKenzie is about to turn away when two hands cover her eyes from behind, startling her. "Hello, darling," she hears Peter say.

"Dammit, Peter!" she says, grabbing both of his hands. "Don't sneak up on people!"

"Sorry. You don't like this game anymore?"

"I never liked it. Which you know full well. It's only ever been fun for _you_."

"Sorry," he says, as if he doesn't mean it. He examines her closely. "Now then. Let's have a look at you." She looks well-rested and healthier than she has in months. "You're not looking quite so knackered this morning. You must have gotten some sleep or ..." he raises his eyebrows. " ... something else that's brightened your cheeks." He pats one for emphasis.

"Shut it, Peter."

"Where's Romeo?" he says, teasing her, lifting up the ends of her hair. "Thinking of ways to proclaim to the world that you belong to him and him alone?"

She swats his hands away. "Oh, do stop talking."

Peter assumes Erin's a fellow shopper until he notices the way she's staring at MacKenzie. Perhaps he's interrupted their conversation.

"Where are your manners, Mackie?" he says, assuming he has. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

She supposes she must. "Erin," she says tersely. "This is my brother, Peter. Peter, this is Erin ... a ... friend of Will's. She's here on ... business."

"Hello. Nice to meet you." Erin says, extending her hand and looking from Peter to MacKenzie.

Peter kisses the back of Erin's hand, making her blush. "A pleasure."

"I can see the resemblance," Erin says. They have the same dark hair, the same round eyes, the same facial shape.

"Yes, we're often told we look alike," Peter says. "It's just a shame I got most of the good looks."

MacKenzie elbows him but she can't help smiling. Peter always makes her laugh. Usually at her own expense.

"The one thing I'll give Mackie, though ..." he says, as if she isn't there. "... is that she looks better in a dress than I do. Under normal circumstances, I mean. But don't you worry, darling," he says, patting her shoulder. "You'll be back in fighting form in a couple of weeks. She really does clean up nicely," he says conspiratorially to Erin. "I swear." He turns his attention back to MacKenzie. "But where _did_ you get this monstrosity?" he says, pointing at her shirt. "The rag bin at the Home for Unwed Mothers?"

MacKenzie bursts out laughing. "Precisely."

Despite Erin's presence, MacKenzie can feel her mood lightening. "Peter, what _are_ you doing here?"

"Dad told us to come pick you up ... bring you back to the house for breakfast. Liv's going to be there. I think she wants to make up with you and Will."

"We already ate and I'm not ready to deal with Liv yet. Who's 'us'? Is Pam parking the car?"

"No ... she dropped me off. I'm meeting Alex here ... he's going to take us back to Mum and Dad's."

Erin is forgotten, her good mood is forgotten and MacKenzie looks at Peter, horrified.

" _Alex!?_ " she says loudly, wrenching herself out from under her brother's arm to look at him incredulously. "Are you _mad_?"

"What?"

"What were you _thinking_ , asking him to come here!?" she says, thumping him lightly on the chest. "You saw what happened last night!"

"What did that have to do with him?"

"Everything! You were in the room - I _saw_ you. Were you _asleep!?_ "

"I missed the first part." He'd followed everyone into the sitting room when MacKenzie started to explain, but he'd been too preoccupied by a rock in his shoe to pay much attention. When he'd finally tuned in again, MacKenzie had been describing her and Will's ridiculous ownership ceremony. "You and Liv are always butting heads. I wasn't really listening. What do you have against Alex all of a sudden?"

" _I_ don't have anything against him! _Will_ does! And he's meeting me here any second. Go! Wait for him outside! We'll take a cab to Mum and Dad's. _Go!_ " she says, clapping him on the back as if to shove him out the door.

Peter glances up and sees Alex heading toward the store. Alex waves at Peter and Peter raises a hand in greeting. "I'm afraid it's too late. Here he comes."

"Oh, _Peter_ -" MacKenzie swivels her head around. "Tell him he's got to back off. Tell him! Quickly. _Go._ "

"Back off how?"

She rolls her eyes. How on Earth did this man manage to get a DPhil in Economics?  

"With the _flirting!_ And the _touching!_ Are you _brain dead?_ "

"Why don't you tell him?"

"Because I don't want to hurt him! It'll be better coming from you! Please - just do it!"

"Too late."

Alex arrives. There's obviously tension in the air, which is ratcheted up several notches by his own arrival.

He forgoes the usual pleasantries. "I've been calling you all night, Mackie!" he says insistently. He's agitated, flustered. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I turned the ringer off. What's wrong?" she says. "Has something happened?"

"That's what I was trying to find out! I've been worried sick about you!"

"Why?"

"Because Liv told me what happened last night!" 

The nerve of that woman. How could she continue to spread those lies after MacKenzie and Will had set her straight? And to _Alex_ , no less! MacKenzie has had just about enough of her pious sister and she's absolutely going to have it out with her when she sees her.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Alex! Liv misinterpreted what she heard. Don't tell me you believed her nonsense."

Alex assumes Erin's another shopper so he continues, albeit at a lower volume.

"I don’t understand why you're still _with_ him, Mackie!" he says heatedly. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Did you just hear what I said? She misinterpreted what Will said! She doesn't know what she's talking about!"

"You're in denial!”

"No, you're out of your mind. And so is she! At any rate, we are _not_ having this conversation. Not now and not here.”

She glances up and notices Erin is still standing there. Fuck.

"Erin, will you please excuse us?" she says but Erin doesn't budge.

Alex looks at Erin in surprise. _Who is this woman?_ He doesn't have time to guess because suddenly she's saying, "Here comes Will." 

Fuck. MacKenzie takes a deep breath and plasters on another fake smile. This time, she aims it at Will, who is taking in the scene before him. There's MacKenzie, looking distinctly uncomfortable, Peter, looking oblivious, and Erin, looking at him expectantly. Then, there's the jackass.

_What the fuck is he doing here?_

He vows to keep a lid on his temper, reminding himself that he and MacKenzie are solid, _solid_ , and this pipsqueak is no threat to him.

"Good morning, Erin," Will nods. "MacKenzie, Peter, _Alex_. Are we having a party?"

"Yes," MacKenzie says brightly. "I ran into Erin and then Peter and Alex showed up. They're here to take us back to the house. I was just telling them we'll take a cab there later so they're free to go. You're free to go," she says quickly. "How's Charlie?"

"He's fine," he says, looking from MacKenzie to Alex, who's looking at him disdainfully.

"Thanks for the offer," Will says to Alex and Peter. "But Mac's right. We'll take a cab back."

Alex looks at Will contemptuously.

"Is that because you want to keep her all to yourself?" he spits out. "Because you _own_ her?" He lets the "own" drag out to twice it's normal length.  
  
Will looks at MacKenzie.

"Come again?" Will says.

"Oh, Liv got to him," MacKenzie tells him. "Don't worry about it." She turns to Alex. "Alex, _drop it_. Come on, Will, let's go back upstairs," she says, grabbing his hand. Will turns away to follow her. "Bye, Erin," he says over his shoulder. "Have a good flight."

He stops when he hears a voice behind him.

"You don't deserve her."

Will turns back around. Slowly.

Alex is standing there, looking at him defiantly, fists clenched.

" _Excuse_ me?" Will says, glowering at him.

Will is seeing red again and what he wants, more than anything else, is to decimate this punk. The fact that they're in public and with Erin, who doesn't need to hear how territorial he feels about another woman, is holding much less sway than it should.

"You think _you_ do?" Will says.

"Oh, no, no, no," MacKenzie says quickly, getting between the two of them. "We're not going to do this. Alex, you're leaving. Will, we're going back upstairs."

Alex glares at Will, who glares back.

"Hold on, Mac," Will says. "Alex thinks I'm _unworthy_ of you." He looks over her head at him. "Who knows? Maybe he's right. So let's hear it. I've heard from everyone else in your family. Might as well hear from friends of the family. Maybe the neighbours would like to weigh in, too. Tell me, Alex. Why do _you_ think I'm unworthy of MacKenzie?"

"Will!" MacKenzie tugs on his arm. "We're not doing this. Let's go."

He ignores her.

"Because you abandoned her," Alex says.

_This crap again? Do I have to send out a press release?_

"I _didn't._   _know._ " Will says exasperatedly.

"I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about when you kicked her out over what she did with her idiot ex."

"Well, I guess we can agree on one thing," Will says. "He _is_ an idiot. But aside from that, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Will!" MacKenzie says, thumping him on the arm. "Keep your voice down! We're in public. Do you want to end up in _Page Six!?_ "

"Fine." he says, spying what looks to be an empty room across from the tuck shop. "Let's go in that conference room over there."

"No! Let's not," MacKenzie says. "Let's say our goodbyes and go back upstairs!"

"Kenz," Will says, looking down at her. "Let's just get this over with, shall we? We'll have it out and then we'll all be best friends, I promise. Besides, this is what - the fourth or fifth time I've had to defend myself since yesterday? I'm just getting the hang of it."

He puts his arm around her and turns on his heel. "You comin', Alex?" he calls over his shoulder. "Let's _do_ this."

"Will!" she says as she allows him to lead her across the hall. "Enough with the chest-thumping! No good can come from this!"

"The good part comes after I set this punk straight. He's going to be in our lives, right? We might as well clear the air now and be done with it, okay? Don't worry. I've got it under control."

"That's what you always think!"

Alex follows along behind them, Peter at his side.

"You sure you want to do this, mate?" Peter says to Alex.

"I've been waiting eight months to do this."

Erin trails along, too. She's got nothing better to do and she's not about to miss this.

They enter the conference room, which is full of last night's dirty dishes and a melting ice sculpture. 

Will stops in front of the speaker's podium and addresses Alex. He notes Erin's presence but is too pissed off to care.

"So I kicked her out," Will says. "What would _you_ have done, oh Morally Superior One?"

"I'd have listened. Because that's how much she means to me."

"That's how much she _means_ to you?" Will says derisively. "What the fuck does that mean?"

 _The man is a complete ass_ , Alex thinks. _What on Earth does MacKenzie see in him?_

When Alex responds, he speaks to Will slowly, as if addressing a child.

"When you _love_ someone, if you value the relationship _at all_ , you _try_ to see things from their perspective. You _try_ to understand, even if you don't like it."

"Thanks for the tip. So you're admitting it. You're in love with her."

Alex looks at MacKenzie, who's shaking her head in warning.

"Alex," she says helplessly. They are _not_ having this discussion here. In an empty conference room. Surrounded by dirty dishes and a melting ice sculpture. And _Will_. "Please _don't_."

Alex knows full well he's going to be on the losing end of this argument but he's powerless to stop it. He has to make her see that Will is no good for her and if he has to admit that he's in love with her to do it, so be it.

"Don't what?" he says, staring at her. "Admit it?" He gives a hollow laugh. "Why not? Surely it doesn't come as a shock to you."

Fuck. There it is. The admission she never wanted to hear.

"Alex, you _know ..._ " she stops and she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. Goddammit, she did not want to have to say this. Ever. But he's looking at her and Will is looking at her and his voice is in her head, telling her to let Alex know that she belongs to Will and Will alone but the words get stuck in her throat because she hates, _hates_ having to hurt him. Will things ever be the same between them again? Is it fair of her to even _ask_ that question? In the end, though, she speaks not because she can feel Will's eyes on her, imploring her to set the record straight, but because it's the right thing to do for Alex. He needs to understand, without a shadow of a doubt, that it can never happen. "Alex, you _know_ I love you, but not ... not ..."

There it is. The pain in his eyes she never wanted to see. His eyes grow bright and so do hers. "Alex, _please_. I never wanted to ..."

"Have this conversation?"

" _Yes!_  Or to hurt you! You're one of my oldest and dearest friends!"

All of a sudden, she's just so fucking emotional she wants to cry. She just wanted Will back. Why did that one simple thing turn everything else to shit?

"Ah. Friends. Every fellow loves to hear that. Don't worry about it, Mackie. I knew it was a long shot." He turns his attention back to Will. "But let's get back to the subject, shall we? As one of your oldest and _dearest_ friends, I believe I have the right to say this."

"No, you don't," she says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. This has to stop. Before any one of them says something they can't take back. "Can't we please-just-stop this? Will, _please_ ," she pleads with him. "Let's just go back upstairs."

"Somebody's got to stick up for you, Mackie," Alex says. "Since you won't do it for yourself."

MacKenzie knows he means well, she knows this is coming from his heart and that he just wants to protect her but absolutely no good can come from this conversation so why the fuck is he insisting on having it?

"It's not your place and it's not your business, Alex! I _love_ Will. I'm happy with Will. Just let it go. Please."

"I can't. I can't stand to see you being treated so horribly."

Now she's pissed. "Will does _not_ treat me horribly," she says, exasperated. "He treats me like a queen!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I forgot that the very definition of treating someone like a queen is telling them you own them, that they belong to you and that you'd better not forget it or they'll walk."

"Oh my _God_ , Alex. Liv misinterpreted that. And I am not going to explain it here but she was wrong and so are you. Will, let's go," she says, tugging on his arm. "I'm getting a headache."

MacKenzie's right. It's gradually dawning on Will that this is ridiculous. In a way it didn't seem ridiculous three minutes ago. "Okay," Will says. "You're right, Mac. Let's get you back upstairs. Goodbye, Erin."

Will starts to head for the door but within seconds Alex is planting himself in front of MacKenzie, blocking her path. "He doesn't _deserve_ you, Mackie," Alex says earnestly, taking her hand. "You let him treat you like garbage. Why can't you _see_ it?"

The second Will sees Alex grab MacKenzie's hand, his good humor disappears. Up until now he'd thought the whole thing was kind of funny - just another confrontation in an apparently long line of confrontations he's expected to have this weekend but _Alex_ is not allowed to touch her. _No one_ is. Except _him_.

_Who the fuck does he think he is, holding her hand like that?_

"That's for me to decide," MacKenzie is saying, trying to let go of Alex's hand. "And I have. Decided. So please _butt. out._ "

"Let go of her," Will commands.

Alex looks up at Will. He's not intimidated by the older man. He knows he's just a bully and a blowhard. Alex is glad he's pissed Will off. Maybe now MacKenzie will finally see what an ass he is.

"Because _you're_ the only one who's allowed to touch her?" Alex says with derision.

" _Yes._ Get your fucking hands off her," Will says, taking a step toward him. " _Now_."

"Will," MacKenzie says. "Look at me. Not him- _me_. We had this talk last night. Remember?"

"Yeah," Will says, his eyes never leaving Alex's face. "But the impulse to kick his ass is much stronger now. And for the record, your Daniel Day-Lewis theory doesn't hold water."

"Whatever," MacKenzie says. "No one is kicking anyone's ass. Come on, Will. Alex, please go."

"Oh, I see. I was good enough to lean on when Loverboy had abandoned you but now that he's back, you have no further use for me."

"That is _not_ true," she says defensively. Has he lost his mind? "I simply don't want either one of you to end up in the goddamned hospital!"

"I just don't understand, Mackie!" Alex says angrily. "You didn't let people walk all over you when you were 13 or 15 or 19 or 21. When did it happen? I tried to figure it out the other day. I think you were about 23 when you decided you _weren’t worth it_.”

"That is _not_ what's going on here, Alex!" MacKenzie says.

"That's exactly what's going on here! How is it that the girl who spent her entire adolescence championing the underdog grew into a woman who decided she doesn't deserve to be treated well!? I watched you do it with that idiot ex of yours and I'm watching you do it again with a man who has the emotional maturity of a ten-year old."

"Hey-" Will starts, then stops. He almost has a grudging respect for the man. _Almost._ Alex actually cares for MacKenzie. He's completely delusional, but he cares.

"He may have the emotional maturity of a ten-year old-" MacKenzie says.

"I'm right here, Mac."

" ... but he has a heart the size of the Atlantic."

"So do a lot of people," Alex retorts. "He should have been taking care of you. Making sure you were getting enough rest. Making sure you were eating. Oh, that's right, you'd have _been_ eating if he hadn't abandoned you."

"Alex, I love you but you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Will treats me well. He always has."

"Except for last night. And except for the last eight months."

"For the record, he did _not_ treat me badly last night. That was all Liv! For the hundredth time, she misinterpreted what he said! And also for the record, I do not judge the quality of my relationship with Will on what's happened in the last 24 hours or even the last eight months. I judge it on the two-and-a-half years we spent together, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. And it was perfect. _He_ was perfect," she says, pointing at Will with her thumb. "All those things you just mentioned? He did them. Day in and day out, every day. That's the kind of man he is."

"No, the kind of man he _is_ is someone who thinks you're his property. Look at him - he's practically foaming at the mouth because I'm touching you."

"Which reminds me," says Will. "Let go of her hand or I will let go of it for you."

"See? God forbid another man decides to _speak_ to you. He's going to walk out on you again as soon as you get out of line."

"Hey-I'm not going to-"

"Yes, you are. You don't love her. She's just an object to you. It's completely conditional. She's alright until she pisses you off and then you're out the door."

"You have no right-"

"I have every right-I've known her since I was six and I've been in love with her since I was ten."

"It took you four years? Listen, Buddy. I'm assuming you had what-20-25  _years?_ -to make your case-and for whatever reason it didn't work out. That sucks but now you know."

"Save your breath ... Alex, is it?" Erin interjects. "No one's getting between these two."

MacKenzie stares at Erin, once again flabbergasted to find that she's still with them. What the fuck is she doing here and why the fuck isn't she minding her own business?

"Well, I'm glad to see you finally recognize it." MacKenzie says.

"Hey-" Erin starts.

"Save it," MacKenzie says. "After what you did last night you're lucky I'm allowing you to breathe the same air as Will."

"You _told_ her?" Erin says to Will incredulously.

Will shrugs. "We've instituted a strict "No secrets" policy."

 _Unbelievable,_ Erin thinks. MacKenzie really does have him whipped. Erin just doesn't get it. MacKenzie, with her stringy hair, unfashionable maternity outfit and circles the size of saucers under her eyes, has two very attractive men practically coming to blows over her. It's become abundantly evident that this is a fight she's not going to win, so she decides a little payback is in order. Fuck Will for leading her on when he was still in love with someone else. And fuck MacKenzie for succeeding with Will where she herself failed.

"Yeah-well, did he tell you he kissed me back?"

" _What?!_ " Will says, gaping at her. "I did not! Erin, why would you say that?"

MacKenzie looks at Will accusingly. "Did you?"

"No! I told you I didn't. Erin, take it back."

"Fine. He didn't. But it took him a while to push me away. And you were right, Will. Being with her really _is_ like being put through the wringer."

Will looks at MacKenzie, whose eyes fill with tears.

"Mac, I did _not_ say that! What I said was that _we_ -you and I-had been through the wringer during the last 24 hours. Which we had, hadn't we? Jesus _Christ_ , Erin. What is _wrong_ with you? Why would you say that to her?"

"Gee, I don't know, Will. Maybe it's because you broke up with me for her."

"What's going on, Mackie?" Peter says.

"Erin was Will's girlfriend until 48 hours ago. She came here last night to try to win him back. It looks like she may have succeeded."

She turns on her heel and starts heading for the door.

"Erin, Alex, _Will_. Go fuck yourselves."


	15. Chapter 15

“Mac. _Mac!_ "

Will sprints to head her off. He catches her just before she makes it to the door and when he turns her around to face him, her eyes are full of tears. She's just so fucking angry. She doesn't know why, exactly, since she's fairly certain Erin is lying. All she knows is that she's pissed: at Will because he insisted on bringing them in here, at Erin for trying to come between them, at herself for hurting someone she cares about so deeply, and at Alex for his assessment of her relationship with Will. Will's the easiest target, so she lays it all at his feet.  
  
"Will, please. Just leave me alone."  
  
"What did I do? I didn't say that, Mac. I would _never_ say that. Why are you listening to people who have an axe to grind?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm going for a walk."

"I'll come with you," he says, taking her arm.

"No." She places her hand on his chest. "I need some time."

"For what?"

"To think."

"You can think with me. I won't bother you."

"Billy - please. I want to be alone. We'll talk later."

She can see the hurt in his eyes and that she's activated all his abandonment issues, which, as usual, manifests as anger.

"No," he says angrily. "You can't just take off. Not in your condition."

She knows what's really going on with him and that he's hurt and bewildered and not really angry but she reacts to what he's saying instead of what he means because Alex's indictment of his controlling personality is uppermost in her mind.

"I'm not asking for your permission."

"Good. 'Cause I'm not giving it to you. What if something happens?" She can't disappear. Not nine-months' pregnant and not while she's pissed at him. What if she goes into labor?

She rolls her eyes. "The city is full of people, Will."

"Yeah. People who don't give a shit about you."

"I won't go far."

"Mac, please," he pleads, an octave lower. "Don't walk out on me."

She matches his volume. "I'm not walking out on you."

"You are," he hisses. "And I'm not going to let you."

"I don't think you have a choice."

He doesn't know what he's done but he can feel her slipping away from him and he doesn't have the first clue why. Why would she rather abandon him than resolve the problem - whatever the fuck it is?

"You're right," he says. "But you do. And if you choose to leave right now, you're choosing not to fix this. And I don't know how I'm supposed to interpret that."

Her volume rises. "I am _not_ choosing not to fix this, Will! I just need time to think!"

"About _what_?" he says heatedly. "What is happening here, Mac? I feel like something's happening but I don't know what it is and I don't know how to fix it. So help me out. What is going on in your _head_?"

He's trying. He's _trying_ and she doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with her except that Alex's assessment of their relationship cut her to the quick.  
  
" _Nothing_ is going on. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can! But you're also nine-months' pregnant! And I would feel a lot better knowing where you are. Look. _I'll_ take the goddamned walk and you can go back to our room. Just tell me how long you need."

"I am not your chattel, Will!" she explodes. "I'm my own person and I can do whatever the fuck I want! And what I _want_ is to take a walk so I can clear my head!"

"Jesus Christ, Mac!" he exclaims at full volume. "I know you're your own person! I just don't want anything to happen to you! You could go into labor, you could trip over a curb, you could be mugged and I wouldn't know where to find you!" He exhales, trying to calm down. "Honey, _please_."

It's the "Honey" that gets her. Along with the pleading look in his eyes. What the fuck is she doing, pushing him away? This is Will, the man she's been dying to have back. She doesn't want to argue with him and she just wants to get back to where she was this morning: completely sure about their relationship and madly in love with him. Which she is, except when other people are offering their unsolicited advice. She doesn't know why she's so fucking emotional. She just wants to burst into tears. Is it the pregnancy that's doing this to her? What happened with Alex?

"I don't want to _argue_ , Will!" she says, her face crumpling.

"Oh, Sweetheart. Come here," he says, pulling her against him. He kisses the top of her head, Erin be damned because as of two minutes ago, he gives exactly zero fucks about her feelings. He knows she was just hurt and lashing out (as he himself is wont to do) but what she'd said was vicious and designed to destroy and he's not ready to forgive that.

"I don't know why I'm crying," MacKenzie wails, pulling back to look up at him. "I just want to be happy, Will, and I'm so happy with you when other people aren't butting in. Why does everyone have to butt in when they don't know what the fuck they're talking about?"

He glances at Alex, who's watching them warily. "Because they care, Mac. They're delusional, but they care. Listen. How long do you need? To think? I'll come back when you tell me."

"You don't have to," she sobs. "I just want to go back upstairs, okay?"

"You sure?"

"What did I just _say_ , Will?!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Okay."

They say their goodbyes (Will gives a terse one to Erin) and head for the elevators. When they return to their suite, she reaches out to start unbuttoning his shirt, still sniffling.

"What are you doing?"

"Unbuttoning your shirt."

"Why?"

"I want to get back to where we were this morning."

"By having sad, angry sex?"

"I won't be sad or angry when we finish."

"No. We should talk."

"I don't want to talk. We can communicate without words."

"No," he says, grabbing her hands. "I'd rather not tarnish something I hold dear just because you don't feel like talking."

"I'm not tarnishing it, Will. I'm using it. It's a shortcut."

"No. I don't want to bring anger into it."

"It'll be alright, Billy," she says, trying to wrench her hands free so she can continue to work on his buttons. "Just let me have this, okay?"

"I said " _no_ ," Mac," he says firmly. "It means too much to me. If you want to do it after we talk, when we're on the same page, I'm all for it, but I'm not going to do it when you're crying."

She turns on him. She's angry and she doesn't know why, so she's casting about for anything that will justify her anger.

"Oh, I get it. You don't want to go to bed with frumpy old me because you'd rather be with Erin, with her perfect hair, perfect figure and perfect law degree!"

"You're spoiling for a fight here, Mac. Where is this shit coming from?"

"You just don't want to admit it. That you'd rather be with her."

"We both know that isn't true. So why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

"I am telling you! You just won't admit it."

He has to cut through this shit but not with sex. Not by sullying something that's sacred.

"I'm gonna tell you a story."

"It's not storytime, Will!" she retorts.

"Yeah. It kind of is. So I need you to listen and not interrupt. Can you do that?"

"Fine."

"Once upon a time there was a woman who was really pissed at her boyfriend, only she didn't want to say why so she started accusing him of all this outlandish shit, shit they both knew had nothing to do with what she was really angry about. The boyfriend didn't know why she was railing at him: all he knew was that he loved her more than anything in the world and that he would do anything in his power to make her happy. He didn't know what to do so he let her go on and on and on but it didn't help because she just got angrier and angrier until she finally said something she couldn't take back. Which made the whole problem exponentially worse."

"Then what happened?" she sniffs.

"He was hurt and she felt badly about it, so she finally owned up to what was really on her mind. They made up because they loved each other but his feelings were hurt and it took him a while to get over it. And he just wished that she would have been honest about what was bothering her in the first place."

"The thing is, that woman knew why she was angry. I _don't_."

"Well, when did it start? With Erin? Alex? All that shit he said about our relationship?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he's right? Do I treat you like garbage?"

"Alex is brilliant, Will. What if he's right? What if you really do treat me badly and I just put up with it? Brian treated me like garbage, so he was absolutely right when he called that. What if you do, too, and I'm only attracted to men who treat me like crap?"

"You told him I treated you like a queen."

"I was defending you."

"You don't believe it?"

"I do, but ... " how to say this without insulting him or pissing him off? "You _are_ controlling, Will. Historically, you have been. Mainly when you're hurt or threatened."

He takes a moment to consider that. He can't really argue with her - he _is_ controlling - a lot more, lately, he thinks. But maybe he's always been that way.

"Have I always been that way? Or ... just recently?"

_Wow. He's actually willing to discuss this._

"There were hints of it before but now it seems to be a full-blown thing."

"Well, it was bad last night, I'll give you that." He looks at her thoughtfully. "Look. I've obviously got some residual shit about our break-up to deal with. I should probably see someone, too. A therapist, I mean. I don't want to be an ass and I definitely don't want to push you away."

That's a shocker. Will? In therapy? He used to be but as far as she knows, he hasn't been in years.

"You'd do that for us?"

"Of course. God, Mac, you're everything to me ..."

Shit. He probably shouldn't have revealed quite so much.

"... and I don't want to screw it up. Not if I can help it."

"I'm everything to you?" She doesn't say it derisively; it's more like an honest question, with a bit of surprise mixed in. Still, he can't quite tell how that went over. Did he just fuck everything up even more? Should he be a little more circumspect about his feelings?

"Yeah ..." he says, letting it drag out. "Uh ... I realize it's not cool to say that but ... I'm hoping ... maybe ... I don't have to play hard-to-get with you. Do I?"

"Do I mean more to you than your career?" she probes.

"Uh ..." Shit, yes. His career doesn't make him feel like a supernova. "Before I answer that, what are you thinking? Are you ... wanting to run for the hills? Because I said that?"

"No," she says, wiping her eyes. "I'm glad. Because it means we feel the same way about each other."

"I mean everything to you, too?"

"Yes. Why do you think I've been so devastated the last eight months? I had a taste of perfection, Billy, and the thought of living without it for the rest of my life was killing me. I'm sorry I've been so awful this morning. I don't know what's wrong with me. My emotions are all over the place."

She's grateful he anticipated - and avoided - what surely would have been a disastrous end to this conversation.

"It's okay," he says, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Can I kiss you now?" she says. "Please? I'm not sad or angry anymore. I just feel so ... I don't know ... vulnerable and off-kilter and being with you - kissing you - feeling your arms around me - always makes me feel centered. I just want to be close to you."

He leans down to press his lips against hers and she sighs into this mouth. There it is. That feeling of coming home. Of being centered. That everything in her world is perfectly aligned. "That's it, Billy. That's it. I love you," she murmurs against his mouth.

"I love you, too, Sweetheart." They kiss for a few minutes and he threads his fingers through her hair. God, how he loves this woman, crazy and hormonal or not. What he feels for her is simply off the charts. He's man enough to admit he's been a controlling ass for the last couple of days, but what's going to happen in the next two or three can't be divorced from his behavior, either. He's in full protector mode, wanting to put a cocoon around MacKenzie and their daughter to keep them safe until everyone comes through childbirth safely.

"I've got a proposition for you, Mac. You and I are solid until other people try to weigh in so until the baby's born, can we just tell anyone who isn't 100% behind us to fuck off? I don't want any of them coming near us. And I'm sorry to say but that includes half your family. I just want to focus on what's important, which is you and our daughter and making sure both of you come out of this thing alive and healthy."

She can't resist needling him. "That's why I wanted to come back upstairs this morning, Will. To avoid anything that might upset the delicate balance. But you had to prove you're the Alpha male."

"Did I? Prove it?"

She snorts. "What you proved is that you're an ass."

"Yeah, but did I prove that I'm the Alpha male?"

"I'm in love with you, Will, so you were always going to come out on top."

"That's a relief. So we're good?"

"We're good. But I've got a proposition for you, too. I know I'm just as guilty of this as you are but I want to stop having the same conversation over and over again, so for the rest of our lives, can you just take it as a given that no matter how ardently someone flirts with me it just doesn't fucking matter? I am impervious to anyone else's charms. And I will do my best to not throw a hissy fit when I see someone flirting with you. Which happens every day of the week, by the way. Can we just take those things as a given from now on so we can get on with our lives?"

"It's a deal." He rubs his hand lightly down her upper arm. "Are we on the same page yet?"

"I think so."

"You're not sad or angry?"

"Nope. Just happy."

"Good. If you're still interested, then, I'd like to show you exactly how I feel about you."

"Wait - you never answered my question," she says, wanting his reassurance. Even though she knows it's absurd. "Do I mean more to you than your career?"

"Mac, if I had to choose between having you and having my career, I'd choose you every time."

"You would?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I love my job, it's a lot of fun but you ... you ... I get to kiss you and make love to you and be inspired by you and spend time with you and make you laugh ... there's no contest. You are the real deal ... of course, I had to say that," he says, teasing her. "Can you imagine what your reaction would have been if I'd said my career means more?"

"So you _were_ just saying that?" she says indignantly.

He laughs. "You are so easy to rile up these days, Mac. Of course I wasn't just saying that. To prove it, you can call Charlie tomorrow, tell him I want to retire and I will happily spend the rest of my days worshiping you."

"That's better."

"I thought it might be. Now," he says, kissing her. "Can I take you back to bed? I want you to work up an appetite so I can feed you an enormous lunch ... as long as it's safe. Are we still safe? I mean, we're getting pretty close to the cut-off date."

"We can do it up until I deliver. The jury's still out but orgasm and nipple stimulation - mine, by the way - are thought to stimulate labor. Semen, too."

"Do we want that? Labor? To stimulate it prematurely?

"She's ready, Will. And like I said, the jury's still out. They don't know for sure whether there's a connection. It might be purely coincidence. Which is why they say it's fine. Besides, we might as well make the most of it; we won't be able to do it for six weeks after she's born."

"Okay, I'm sold," he says, nuzzling her ear. 

"Wait," she says.

"What?"

"Did you have unprotected sex with Erin?"

"No."

"So that means I'm still the only woman - in your cavalcade of women - with whom you've ever had unprotected sex?"

"Yes."

"In your whole life?"

"Yes."

"You've worn a condom every single time?"

"You know I'm paranoid, Mac, so yes. Every single time. Since I was a teenager."

"Except with me."

"Except with you."

"Well, I guess that says everything, doesn't it? About how you feel about me."

He smiles. "I guess it does, Mac. You win the prize."

"I absolutely did," she says, kissing him.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, chatting about nothing and in the end, decide to skip dinner with her parents and eat in. Come eight o'clock, her eyelids are drooping, so he helps her to bed.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," he murmurs. "I love you."

She snuggles more closely against him. "G'night, Billy," she says softly. "Sweet dreams."

He's tired, too and while he can't remember the last time he wasn't awake at eight, he's soon drifting off beside her, luxuriating in the intoxicating sensation of having her near. As he's drifting off, he starts to worry. Their daughter is due in three days and he's starting to get a little spooked. Will MacKenzie be in much pain? When the fuck is Harriet going to take time out of her busy schedule to do some knowledge transfer? He vows to force her to do it tomorrow, while she's helping him with another errand he has in mind. They don't have time to fuck around.

The next morning, MacKenzie decides to take a bath, so while she's in there, Will makes a discreet call. Apparently, there's a Tiffany nearby, which he'd discovered while flipping through one of the hotel pamphlets. Although he has the ring from Before back home, he wants a fresh start. Practically speaking, he knows he should let her pick it out but he really, really wants to surprise her with it so, he while she's drying her hair he calls Harriet and asks her to meet him there. He tells MacKenzie he's going out to buy some cigars for Charlie and she's happy to stay behind, reading one of the 27 magazines she made him buy her in the middle of the night.

The contractions start 15 minutes after he leaves. She tries to raise him on his cell phone but the idiot left it behind, so she can't do anything but wait. Harriet meets him at Tiffany and they pick out a ring she's sure MacKenzie will love, so he gleefully boxes it up and they return to the hotel.

When they arrive, MacKenzie is pacing. She tells them she thinks she's in labor and the contractions are now five minutes apart. She orders Will not to panic and they make their way downstairs to call a cab. By the time they make it to the curb, the pain is so strong it knocks the breath right out of her. She buries her face in Will's chest, trying to focus on her breathing.

 _This is it,_ he thinks. _Please, God, let everything be okay._


	16. Chapter 16

Will, MacKenzie and Harriet get into the cab with MacKenzie in the middle.

Will tells the driver to head to Huntington's, which elicits an impassioned "Wrong hospital! Stamford, please," from MacKenzie, which provokes a loud "Huntington's!" from Will, to which MacKenzie retorts, "Stamford! What on Earth is the matter with you, Will?"

To which the driver replies, " _Where_ am I going?"

"Huntington's," Will says firmly, and before MacKenzie can get a word in, he cuts her off: "Your doctor's meeting us at Huntington's, Mac! That's where we have to go!" The cab driver is just happy they've stopped screaming so he takes the last direction.

MacKenzie looks at Will, utterly mystified. "What are you talking about? My doctor's affiliated with Stamford."

"She's also affiliated with Huntington's and when I spoke to her yesterday, I asked her if we could switch you there."

"Why?"

He looks at her. He knows he's being paternalistic and controlling and that this is going to go over like a lead balloon but he also knows he's right and that she'll change her tune when confronted with the facts. He hopes.

"Huntington's better than the hospital you picked. It has a lower infant and maternal mortality and complication rate. They have more staff, more up-to-date equipment and they're connected to the top teaching hospital in the country. They have private suites, we'll have a private waiting area in which your 1,500 relatives can spread out, I can stay in the room with you, it's cozier, it's just better all around."

She knows all about Huntington's. It's where the hoity-toity have their scheduled caesareans when they can carve out time from their busy schedules.

"That may be, Billy, but it costs thousands of pounds a day!"

"We can afford it, Mac!"

"You had no right to do that without consulting me! Stamford delivers thousands of babies a year without incident. That's why I chose it!"

"Yeah, well, you might want to check your sources because Stamford killed more mothers and babies in the last year than Huntington's did in the last decade."

"My doctor told me that was a bogus report! You had no right, Will! I don't want any special treatment!"

"Well, _I_ for one would like to make sure you and our daughter come out of this thing _alive_ , thank you very much. You can slum it when the stakes aren't quite so high."

"You arrogant, _elitist_ -"

"Yeah, well, I'm rubber and you're glue. Everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you."

"Cool it, guys." Harriet says.

MacKenzie's retort is interrupted by a surge of pain that travels from her back all the way around her midsection. She grimaces as it washes over her and Will immediately drops the attitude. "Hold on to me, Sweetheart," he says, stroking her hair as she buries her face in his side. He may be an arrogant SOB but he grounds her like no one else ever has and his earthy, woody scent happens to be the only thing keeping her from screaming.

"It _hurts_ , Will," she gasps as the pain finally passes. "It really fucking hurts."

"I know, Honey. Just hang on."

"Why did I let you do this to me?" she mutters.

He's done the calculations and he's pretty sure he knows the night the baby was conceived: they'd had a huge fight at work and MacKenzie had tackled him as soon as they got home.

"I'm pretty sure you were the ringleader on the night in question, Hon."

She punches him in the arm.

"Ow!"

They're silent as the cab takes them toward their destination, and suddenly she's clawing at his neck as another contraction overtakes her.

"Jesus, Mac! Your nails!" he exclaims, but she ignores him, too intent on burying her face in his neck, trying to find relief against his skin. She has no idea why she finds his scent so intoxicating, so calming, but she always has. She tries to tap into that now but it feels like she's being punched and twisted and wrung out from the inside, an implosion of bones and muscle.

"Billy, it _hurts_."

The panic in her voice is contagious. He looks at his watch. The contractions are now only five minutes apart, which means this is it. This is really fucking it. "Harriet! What the fuck is she supposed to do now?"

"Breathe, Mackie. Breathe. 1-2-3, 1-2-3." MacKenzie tries, but it's not helping and she just wants to disappear.

Mercifully, one minute later, the cab deposits them at Huntington's. Will helps her into a wheelchair and then he's running toward the entrance, pushing the chair as fast as he can.

"Hold on, Kenz!" he yells and she tries, but his terror-propelled flight isn't making it easy.  
  
"Slow down, you idiot! You almost lost me when you rounded that corner!"

"Sorry," he says, panting.

Finally, finally, they make it to the entrance.

They register and MacKenzie's jaw drops when they're ushered into their palatial suite. It's got a double bed for her and Will, a private bath with walk-in shower for two, spa toiletries, a massage table and a mini-bar. For their guests, there's a private waiting area with comfy chairs and another mini-bar. MacKenzie grudgingly admits (to herself only) that this is far superior to what she would have gotten at Stamford.

The rest of the McHales arrive with Alex in tow but Will's too preoccupied to notice. The contractions are now four minutes apart and MacKenzie and Will alternate between lying on the bed and taking short walks. When they make it back to the bed, Lord McHale asks him a question and when he tries to sit up to answer, MacKenzie holds him down, insisting on using him as a human mattress.

As Liv watches them from across the room, she begins to form an entirely new picture of them as a couple. She notes how completely devoted to MacKenzie Will is, how attuned he is to the slightest change in her breathing, how he smooths her hair and murmurs in her ear, how no one in the world seems to exist for him but her. Liv's previous assessment - of Will as a closeted domestic abuser - no longer seems to hold water: MacKenzie doesn't act fearful of Will in the slightest, in fact, she's clinging to him, holding on to him desperately.

"Billy," she gasps, as she's borne away on another wave of pain. This time, the contraction is like throwing up in reverse, a completely involuntary heaving _down_. "Distract me," she gasps. "Tell me how much you missed me."

"I missed you like ..." _the scorched earth misses rain_ , he wants to say, but Liv is in the room and even if she wasn't, that's too trite and clichéd. Even that doesn't begin to describe the pain he'd felt at her loss. He kisses her hair, so grateful to have her back, to feel her warm body next to his, to know he's going to wake up to her every morning for the rest of his life.

"Like I said. I couldn't get out of bed for a week after you left. I couldn't believe you were gone, that it was over, that I was never going to see you again. It was a physical pain ... in my chest, in my stomach. I couldn't stop crying. It was horrible. When I did finally make it out of bed, you were everywhere. Everything reminded me of you."

He remembers staggering into the bathroom and noticing for the first time all the things she'd left behind: her shampoo, her hair pins, her lavender-scented lotion. Each new thing he discovered was like a punch to the gut, so mundane yet so fraught, a reminder of a moment frozen in time: of watching her put her hair up to go to the gym, the way her eyes would sparkle as she slathered lotion all over her body, letting him watch but not touch, the way the water sluiced down her back as he washed her hair after incendiary lovemaking sessions.

She'd stand there, breathless and trembling, and when he finished with her hair, she'd push him back onto the shower bench, stand between his legs and wash his. She'd massage his scalp with deft fingertips, gently working the soap into a lather and he would wrap his arms around the backs of her thighs, pressing his face against her stomach as she murmured how much she loved him.

He'd been involved with other women, of course, but he'd never felt so _loved_ as he had with her - indeed with anyone - and that had been the worst part: he'd wholeheartedly believed her affection for him was genuine and after she'd left, he simply couldn't fathom how he could have been so _wrong_. He didn't know how the hell he was supposed to put his life back together when she'd taken not only his heart but his will to live, when all that was left of him were jagged bits that no longer fit together.

She wants to hear it now, so he tries to put it into words, starting with the hair appliance that had tortured him for months.

"All the things you left behind ... they tortured me ... but I couldn't get rid of them. You left a pink ... what the hell did you call that thing you put in your hair ... when you went to the gym - a - _skunky_?"

"A scrunchie, you oaf."

"That's a ridiculous word. Anyway, you left a _scrunchie_ behind and I couldn't throw it away because ..."

Another contraction overtakes her and he strokes her back.

"... that would mean I'd have to touch it and I couldn't touch it because your fingers had touched it last and the thought of your fingers, your DNA, your anything being that close to me when you yourself were so far away ... even though you were probably still in New York, then, even though I was the one who'd kicked you out ... I couldn't touch it. I just couldn't. So I left it where it was. I couldn't conceive of ever being able to put my life back together again, Mac. It was like a death. It was horrible. Absolutely horrible."

The contraction passes and she relaxes against him.

"I'm so sorry, Billy. You don't have to talk about it - I'm sorry I asked you to."

"Good. 'Cause reliving it makes me feel sick all over again."

She reaches up to stroke his hair. "You know how much I love you, don't you?"

"I do now. I didn't then."

She burrows more deeply into his side as another contraction starts.

"God, it hurts. Keep talking, Billy. Tell me how much you love me. "

"I know it hurts, Honey. Take deep breaths, okay? I love you."

"I love hearing you say that," she gasps, clinging to him. "It means ... so much ... to me to hear you say that. Say it again."

"I love you, Kenz. I love you."

His voice and his words are like a balm covering her jangled nerves, until the next wave takes her under. The pain is like someone has taken a wrench to her spine but she tells herself it's just their daughter trying to fight her way into the world, her tiny body working in concert with her own. MacKenzie can feel herself floating blindly now, on top of her body, and suddenly, the pain isn't pain anymore - it's just an alternate reality in which she has ceased to be herself. She watches, helpless, as the tunnel gets narrower and narrower and everything bursts into yellow-violet flames. Finally, it passes and she sags against Will.

Hours go by. The McHales come and go, alternating between the private waiting room and the birthing suite. A nurse comes in, asking Will to fill out a form, so he takes it to the table across the room. Harriet's there, texting someone on her phone, when all of a sudden, MacKenzie can't get any air.

 _What the fuck is happening?_ She tries to get Will or Harriet's attention but no one is looking and she's starting to panic because she's inhaling and no air is going in and she's starting to feel light-headed and it feels like her lungs are collapsing and what the fuck is happening - _Will - Will_ \- she tries to send him an SOS via brain waves and the imbecile is still not paying attention and Jesus Christ, what the fuck does she have to do to get someone's attention around here? Suddenly, she gives a giant, terrified gasp and then all eyes turn to her and the surprise in their expression immediately turns to horror because they can see she's struggling, can see her mouth forming the words, "Can't breathe."

Will is up like a shot, tearing out of the room and Harriet is sprinting over to her, saying "It's okay, Mackie, you're going to be okay, Will's getting help" but it's not going to be okay because she feels like she's drowning and she's close to blacking out and _fuck and fuck and please let the baby be all right, please, please, please, somebody help me because the baby needs oxygen, please, please_ and she can't fucking breathe and she's just about to go under when she sees Will barreling back in, wild-eyed and terrified, literally dragging someone in by their lab coat and the man is cursing at Will until he takes one look at MacKenzie who's gasping and turning blue and then the doctor is screaming for all of them to get the fuck out and hitting a button on the wall as hard as he can and she sees Harriet and Will launch themselves over to the other side of the room to make way for the wall of people streaming into it and just before she goes under she looks at Will and tears are streaming down his cheeks and then everything goes black.


	17. Chapter 17

They stand there as the hospital staff work on MacKenzie, the phrases "crashing," "blood pressure dropping," and "c-section" like knives to their guts. Suddenly, someone who barely looks old enough to be an intern notices they're still in the room and orders them to leave.

"What's happening?" Will sobs. "What's wrong with her?"

"Someone will be out to speak with you shortly. Please, sir. You have to leave."

"Come on, Will," Harriet says, tears streaming down her face.

"No, no," he cries.

"Will, _Will!_ We have to let them help her. Come on!"

He allows himself to be led, stumbling, out into the hallway. They're ordered back into the private waiting room, where the rest of the McHales are waiting, plus Alex. Those assembled take one look at Will and Harriet and every one of them leaps to their feet.

"What's wrong?" Lord McHale says. "Mackie?"

"She stopped breathing, Dad!" Harriet wails. "They're working on her now."

Lady McHale's eyes fill with tears and she sits down hard in her chair.

Harriet sees that Will is still standing where she left him, in shock, paralyzed with fear, so she motions to Peter to go to him. "Help him sit down, Peter." Peter goes to Will, tears streaming down his own cheeks, and says, gently, "Come on, old chap, let's sit you down."

Will doesn't respond because he can't see, can't hear, can't do anything but plead with whatever fucking gods are in charge of the universe to _help her, help her, please, please. This can't be the end, it can't be, she has to be alright, she has to be alright, please God, they both have to be alright, please, I'll do anything, anything, please, God, let them be alright._

"Will!" Peter says loudly. Will's head jerks up and he looks around, stunned, trying to see if anyone has come in to tell them what the fuck is going on, but it's only Peter, motioning for him to sit down. He allows himself to be led to a chair next to Liv and collapses into it, burying his face in his hands.

Twenty minutes later, the door to the waiting room opens and a nurse Will recognizes steps in. She heads straight for Will and he leaps to his feet, wild-eyed with terror. He tries to make his mouth work but he's too terrified to speak. All he can do is wait for her to tell him his life is over. 

"They're still treating her," the nurse says gently. "And you have a beautiful, healthy daughter who was born five minutes ago. They're just cleaning her up. You can see her in a minute."

He hears her but the information barely registers.

"MacKenzie." he says, taking a step toward her. "Is MacKenzie going to be okay?"

"I'll let the doctor speak with you."

"No!" he says, grabbing her wrist before she can turn away. When he realizes what he's done, he drops it.

"I'm sorry. Please! Just tell me! What's wrong? Is she going to be okay?"

She tries to keep her expression neutral.

"They're doing everything they can for her, Will. She's in good hands."

As she finishes speaking, he tries to parse what that means.

It means there's not a lot they can do.

It means there's a chance she could _die._

_Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God. No. No, please no._

"Is she going to be alright? Please." 

"The doctor knows more than I do. She'll be in as soon as she can."

The nurse leaves and Will staggers back to his chair. The level of terror in the room is almost palpable as they wait to be liberated from their private, well-appointed hell. The McHales are not a religious family but when Will glances around, he can see every one of their lips moving in silent prayer. Lord McHale's face is ashen, his eyes red-rimmed. Lady McHale is clutching Ted's hand and when Will inadvertently catches her eye, he sees the same look of terror he knows is in his own. The prospect of losing MacKenzie is so unspeakable, so unbelievably cruel, that neither of them can muster a comforting glance to exchange with the other. They stare at each other, utterly paralyzed, utterly terrified, shaken to the core. As the interminable seconds and then minutes tick by, a thought breaks through the surface of Will's consciousness.

He has a daughter.

_He'd completely forgotten._

What kind of man forgets he has a daughter? Hell, what kind of man gets his girlfriend pregnant, sends her into a war zone and ignores her while she goes insane? He did this to her. She's going to die and it's all his fault. His daughter is going to have to grow up without a mother and it's all on him. He glances around the room, takes in the ashen faces of the people around him. Look at them. Every single one of their lives is going to be destroyed because of him. He's a monster. A _monster._

He doesn't deserve to have a daughter but he has one, and he wonders if he should ask to see her, if that's the thing a responsible father would do. Instead, he finds himself welded to his chair, unable to muster the strength to even pretend there's room for anything in his mind but _MacKenzie. MacKenzie. Please. Please. I love you, Mac. Hold on, hold on, please, please._

Ten minutes later, he's still in a daze, still wondering if he's expected to get up and ask someone if he can see his daughter. His reverie is broken when the door opens and a nurse he's never seen comes in, bearing a tiny bundle. She scans the room, and Lady McHale motions to Will, who can't make his legs work in order to stand up to greet her. She approaches Will, who says desperately, "How is she? MacKenzie?"

"As far as I know, they're still treating her."

_She's still alive, thank God. Thank God._

"What's wrong with her?" Will asks.

"I don't know," the nurse answers."I work with the babies." She doesn't know, either. All she's heard is that it's serious, they're still treating her and that 80% of patients in her condition don't survive. But she's not going to tell him that. 

She reaches down to turn his wrist over so she can check the number on his wristband against the one on the baby and when she sees it's a match, she motions for him to open his arms. He's too stunned to respond so Harriet elbows him and he tentatively reaches out to grasp the warm bundle with both hands. He gently brings her to his chest but doesn't dare look at her.

Instead, he watches the nurse as she takes a bottle of warm milk from the pocket of her scrubs. 

She hands it to Will. "I know your wife wants to breastfeed," she says gently. "You can use milk from the milk bank until she's able to."

Will just stares at her.

 _She's talking about MacKenzie in the future tense. What else does she know?_ _She must know something._

He grabs her wrist as she starts to move away. "What do you know about MacKenzie's condition?"

Alarmed, she tries to wrench her wrist away, so Will lets it fall. "The doctor will be in to speak with you shortly."

"Please. What do you know?"

"I can't tell you anything."

_Goddammit, why isn't anyone telling them anything? What do they have to do around here to get some answers?_

"You can't or you won't?" he says angrily.

" _Will_ ," Liv chides him. "I'm sure they have a protocol to follow."

"I don't care about that," he says. "Please. Tell us how she is."

"I don't know," the nurse says again. "The doctor will be in soon."

"When?" he insists.

_"Soon."_

She turns on her heel and heads for the door. As Will watches her go, he remembers he has a baby in his arms. Did that woman seriously just leave him alone with a newborn? What the fuck is he supposed to do with her? He wants to tell the nurse off for being so irresponsible, for leaving a defenceless infant in the hands of someone who hasn't the first fucking clue how to hold her, let alone care for her, but she's already gone, so there's nothing he can do but sit there and try not to drop her.

The McHales gather around, _oohing_ and _aahing_ but their enthusiasm is so heavily tinged with worry that they quickly sit back down.

The baby's here now and she needs him, so even though his mind keeps chanting, _please, please, please_ , he forces himself to pay attention to her. Her mouth opens in a tiny yawn and despite his internal panic he's absolutely mesmerized. She's tiny and beautiful and except for the blonde hair, she looks so much like MacKenzie he wants to weep. She's starting to fuss, so Liv hands him the bottle. "Here. See if she'll take this. "

"How?" He says, his eyes never leaving the baby's face.

The baby stops fussing when he speaks and Liv looks at him in surprise. "She knows your voice."

"Mackie watched Will's show every day." Lady McHale says, her voice cracking.

Silence fills the room and the baby starts fussing again.

"It's okay, Sweetheart," Will soothes her and she stops immediately.

Now what the fuck is he supposed to do? Luckily, Liv comes to the rescue.

She shows him how to situate the baby in his arms so he can feed her, then hands him the bottle. He puts the bottle to her lips and she takes it immediately, staring at him with wide eyes. As she feeds, she starts to fuss a bit and Will hopes she doesn't burst into tears because he doesn't have the first clue as to how to handle a crying baby.

"Keep talking, Will," Liv says. "She likes your voice." 

"What do I say?" he asks. 

"Anything. Talk about the weather. It doesn't matter."

Although the last thing he wants to do is talk (he just wants the doctor to come in here and tell them MacKenzie's going to be okay), he forces himself to do it because he has to.

"Let's see. What can we talk about, Sweetheart?" The baby stops drinking and looks to the sound of his voice, seemingly in recognition. "Well, I'm really happy to meet you. And your mommy-I mean your _mummy_ -" he says, looking at his daughter. "Your mummy's going to be very happy to meet you, too."

The baby is so small, so fragile and he's sure he's holding her the wrong way until it occurs to him that none of the McHales have snatched her out of his hands, so maybe he's not doing too terribly. _MacKenzie would know how to hold her properly_ , he thinks. She'd know it instinctively because she has the sharpest instincts of anyone he's ever met. He can't believe she's not right here next to him, cooing at their daughter or resting her head on her own personal piece of real estate on his chest.

Tears prick at his eyes. He's just so fucking terrified. What if he never sees those sparkling eyes or hears that joyous laugh ever again? What if their daughter has to grow up without a mother? If she does, she's going to have to grow up without a father, too because there's no fucking way he'll survive.

But he can't think like that now. Not now, not when there's still a chance, not when the baby needs him to keep talking. She's fussing again and Liv is elbowing him to keep him on task, so he studies the baby, looking for inspiration, but he doesn't know what the fuck to say to her, not when the only words on his lips are _Please, Please, Please be alright. I can't live without you. I don't want to live without you. I'll do anything. Anything. Please don't leave me, Mac. Please._

He forces himself to focus on the baby, on the details of her face. He can see a bit of himself in there: the hair, certainly, the eyes, too, and maybe the chin, but for the most part, she's all MacKenzie. Who's somewhere in this godforsaken place being treated. Who may not live to meet this perfect creature who is literally a product of their love for one another.

He gulps and tries not to let his mind go to the dark places that are threatening to overwhelm him. If he does, he's going to cry, which means he won't be able to keep talking, which means his daughter's going to cry, which means he will have failed her and he can't do that, not on her first day in the world.

He tries to think of something positive and what comes to him is MacKenzie, the way she'd looked at him the other morning. She'd been sitting in his lap, teasing him as he waited for her to kiss him. Her eyes had been sparkling, dancing, and she'd been looking at him with such affection, such adoration, he remembers feeling like he couldn't breathe. And there's something so familiar in the way his daughter is looking at him now-not that she can probably even _see_ him-and not that she's looking at him with anything close to adoration-but there's something in her expression-something so knowing, so discerning, that it reminds him of MacKenzie. It's as if he's looking at her in miniature.

The baby's about to cry so he swallows hard and forces himself to say what's on his mind. "You know what, Sweetheart?" he says softly. "You look just like her. And that's a really good thing. 'Cause she's beautiful. Really beautiful." He gulps and tries to keep it together. "And so smart. So funny. I don't think it's overstating it to say your mummy is amazing. You'll see for yourself. When you meet her."

He keeps going, sticking to the subject because besides the abject terror, it's the only thing on his mind. This he can do. He can talk about MacKenzie. Because she's everything to him and for the first eighteen years at least, if MacKenzie makes it out of here alive, he expects she'll be everything to their daughter.

"So let's talk about her, okay? 'Cause I could talk about her all day."

As he talks, the baby quiets, and he locks eyes with her. She's listening to his voice, rapt, so he keeps going, and suddenly it's flowing out of him. Everything he feels for her mother.

"Your mummy is the best person I've ever known. Bar none. She inspires you to be the very best person you can be-no matter how inconvenient it is. And let me just say, 95% of the time, it _is_ inconvenient. But you do it anyway, because she gives you this look when you've made her proud that's worth all the tea in China. And you keep doing it, too, 'cause it's like a drug. 'Cause you'll do whatever it takes to see that look on her face again."

He gulps and forces himself to keep going. "What else can I tell you about your mummy? She has really high standards. I found that out on the first day we met."

The baby peers up at him, unblinking, and he sees that her dark blue eyes are precisely the color of his own.

"My EP - that's short for executive producer - had the flu and your mummy took over for the week. That's how I met her. The first time I saw her, she was sitting at a desk, looking at the list of stories my team was gonna put on the air that night. She had this black marker and she was going through the list and I could hear her muttering to herself. She was saying, ' _No. No. No. Forget it. Not on my watch. He can't be serious. What an imbecile_.'"

The McHales listen, grateful to have something to distract them from their own black thoughts, curious, despite everything, to hear something of how it all began for MacKenzie and Will.

"She didn't know I was standing behind her and I didn't say anything because we hadn't been introduced and I thought it was kind of funny. So while she was muttering, I looked over her shoulder and saw she'd crossed out nine of the 12 stories we were planning to do that night. So I said, "And just what do you propose we put on the air instead?"

"She wheeled around, and she blushed, 'cause she was embarrassed. And I thought, _Wow, she's **beautiful.** Is she smart, too?_ And then she got that look on her face. That defiant, adorable look on her face, the one she gets right before she tells you off. And you know what she said? She said, 'Color bars would be better than this sh - _stuff_ ,'" he says, catching himself.

The McHales chuckle.

"I won't lie," Will says to the baby. "I was irritated. Someone coming in, trying to change my show? Not gonna happen. So I said, 'I appreciate your input but we're doing those stories. I want the rough cuts by four o'clock.'"

"I said it in my gruffest voice, too, 'cause I've been told I can be pretty intimidating. But she wasn't intimidated. She looked me straight in the eye, crumpled up that list of stories and threw it in the garbage. And I gotta say, that took a lot of guts. 'Cause I'm pretty high up on the food chain where I work. But she didn't care. And then she just laid into me. Like she'd been saving it up for months. She said she'd be da - _darned_ \- if she was going to put her name on a piece of garbage. She said we had a duty to inform the electorate instead of pandering to the lowest common denominator. She said someone with my intellect shouldn't be lobbing softballs-I should be going for the jugular every night. She said even though I'd been doing my best for years to convince the American people I was a complete idiot, she knew for a fact that I wasn't as dumb as I looked."

The McHales laugh through their tears and the baby yawns.

"Yes, she said that. She did. 'Cause Mummy loves putting Daddy in his place. We had our first big fight that night and we'd only known each other three minutes. Of course it only took her an hour to convince me and we did a really good show that night. One I was actually proud of. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done a show I was proud of. We did a really good show the next night, too, and every night for the rest of the week. And by the time the week was over, I wanted her for my EP. Actually, I wanted her for a lot more than that but she was seeing some guy who wasn't nearly good enough for her. I'm not nearly good enough for her, either, but she doesn't seem to mind."

He glances up and sees Alex staring at him, obviously agreeing with his last statement but he no longer gives a fuck. The only thing that matters now is MacKenzie and making sure she comes out of this thing alive and healthy. He wishes to God there was something he could do to make that happen but he can't. All he can do is wait. And pray. And take care of their daughter the way she'd want him to.

So he turns his attention back to her. She's still drinking and still staring at him.

"Anyway, it took me a couple of months of wheeling and dealing to get her as my EP but I did. 'Cause I know a good thing when I see one. And then she broke up with her boyfriend, thank God, and somehow, somehow, I convinced her to go out with me. And we had the best time. We had so much fun together. We'd have these silly contests where we'd try to make the other person laugh and the winner was the person who held out the longest. She usually won but sometimes I did and I loved it when that happened because your mummy has the best laugh. It just bubbles out of her. Like music. I don't know how else to describe it but I love hearing it."

"I used to spend every lunch hour looking up jokes on the Internet so I could tell them to her during commercial breaks. Just because I wanted to hear that laugh. And that's a tip for you. If you do something wrong, try to make her laugh before you tell her. She'll go easier on you, I promise. It's worked for me. A few times."

The baby finishes the bottle and Liv says, "She needs to get the wind out; otherwise, she'll get a stomach ache. Put her against your shoulder and tap her back gently."

He does as instructed and he can't believe how tiny she is, that he's responsible for her, that anyone in their right mind would let him be responsible for her. What does he know about babies? He gives her a few gentle taps and is rewarded with a tiny little exhalation of air.

"That's it," Liv says. "Now lay her back down. See if you can get her to sleep." He does and the baby fights to stay awake, but soon her eyes close and she drifts off. "There you go, Sweetheart," he says, rocking her. "That's a good girl."

"Keep talking, Will," Liv says. "Until she's all the way under."

"Where were we?" he says to the slumbering baby. "Your mummy's laugh. Did you know she can make you laugh even when you're arguing with her? And that's one thing I should I should warn you about: Mummy and Daddy argue a lot-mostly because she has really high standards and I don't-but we don't mean it. We laugh all the time. About everything. 'Cause when you have someone like your mummy in your life, it's easy to laugh. She just makes you feel so good. Like anything is possible. Like the world's a beautiful place."

As he speaks, Liv feels more and more guilty about misjudging him. It's not the baby he's fixated on-though she suspects that has more to do with fear than anything else-it's MacKenzie. He is desperately in love with MacKenzie and he would do  _anything_  for her. She owes the both of them an apology. She just hopes she gets the chance to offer it to her sister.

"We're the luckiest people in the world to have your mummy," he's saying softly. "We just have to make sure she comes through this okay."

And if she doesn't? He doesn't think he'll be able to survive.

 _Please, Mac, please. Come back to me._  

A sob is threatening to escape so he covers his face with the hand that isn't holding the baby and when Harriet quickly takes her from him, he buries his face in both hands. He's shocked to hear Liv's voice near his ear and then he feels a palm rubbing his back in smooth, soothing circles.

"She's going to be okay, Will," Liv says. "She _is_." The tears are running down his cheeks but he nods.

At that moment, the door opens and MacKenzie's doctor steps in. She looks exhausted and tense and the expression on her face strikes a whole new level of terror in Will's heart.

She heads straight for Will and everyone in the room holds their breath.

"MacKenzie?" he says. 

"She's stable."

 _Thank God, thank God_ , he thinks.

Until he remembers that "stable" could mean anything.

_Fuck._

He has to find out.

"Stable like she's near death and holding steady or stable like she's going to be okay?" It comes out a little more harshly than he intends but it's out of his mouth before he can stop it.

The doctor looks at him. "We're cautiously optimistic, Will. Everything went as well as could be expected under the circumstances. What happened was extremely rare but the doctor you dragged into her room recognized it immediately and began an aggressive course of treatment."

He supposes he should ask what made her stop breathing but at the moment he doesn't give a fuck. All he cares about is whether she's going to be alright.

"Will she make a full recovery?" he asks.

"There's a very good chance she will but we won't know until she wakes up."

"When will that be?" Lady McHale says.

"Today or tomorrow."

_If she doesn't make a full recovery ... what does that mean, exactly? Are we talking about a limp? Is she going to be in a persistent vegetative state? It's all a little too vague for him. What the fuck is she trying **not** to tell them?_

"If she's ... _not_ okay ... what will that look like?" Will presses.

"She may have neurological deficits. We just don't know."

"But there's a chance she'll be alright?" Peter asks.

"Yes. A good chance. As I said, she received appropriate treatment immediately." She looks at Will. "You did well in choosing this hospital, Will. When something like this happens, it's not always recognized in time and the outcome can be ... very different."

"What happened?" Lord McHale asks. "Why did she stop breathing?"

"Amniotic fluid entered her bloodstream, which caused an allergic reaction, which caused a blood clot to form in her lung. We inserted a catheter to deliver medicine to dissolve the clot."

_Jesus._

"Can we sit with her? Until she wakes up?" Will asks.

"Yes."

"What about the baby? Can I sit with MacKenzie and look after the baby at the same time?"

"It will be good for her to have the baby nearby-if she hears her crying, it may stimulate something in her subconscious. When you do sit with her, talk to her. Don't say anything upsetting, but do try to engage her mind. "

In the end, the doctor's words do little to comfort any of them. Will, in particular, won't be able to breathe until he knows for sure she's going to be alright.

_And if she isn't ... if she has neurological deficits?_

They'll just have to deal with them. He'll get the finest specialists in the world to help her.

_And if she never fully recovers?_

He decides he'll just have to make peace with that somehow. Because he loves her. For better or for worse.

The doctor leaves them and he arranges for MacKenzie to be booked into a private room in a private wing of the hospital. The room is huge and well-appointed and Will knows damned well she won't approve of such extravagance but he also doesn't give a shit.

An hour later, a nurse lets them know they can sit with her. Lady McHale tells Will he should be the one to go to her and offers to take the baby, but Will wants her with him. He's already grown so attached to her he doesn't want to let her out of his sight.

When he finally steps into MacKenzie's room, it's late at night. She's hooked up to machines and he's grateful to note that she just looks like she's sleeping but the terror is creeping up on him again. He tries to tamp it down but it's rising up and he's just so frightened, wanting her to wake up immediately but scared she won't be the same if she does.

He drags a chair over to her bed and sits down. Liv's just been telling him about some cockamamie baby-bonding technique called "kangaroo care" so he figures he may as well try it out here. If the baby can't bond with MacKenzie yet, she may as well bond with him. He holds the baby awkwardly in one hand while he unbuttons his shirt, unswaddles her from her blanket, takes her out of her onesie and presses her gently against his chest. He can feel her heart thudding against his and he feels so much love for this tiny creature he doesn't quite know what to do with it.

The baby settled, he gulps and takes a deep breath. MacKenzie's hand is lying on top of the blanket, so he reaches through the bars and grasps it. She doesn't react but he rubs his thumb across her palm in the same way he always has, hoping it will bring her comfort in the same way it always has.

"Mac," he whispers. "It's me. I don't know if you can hear me but the baby's fine. I'm holding her right now. She's healthy and perfect and she looks just like you. She's just waiting for her mummy to wake up. We all are."

He squeezes MacKenzie's hand.

"You've been through a lot but the doctor says there's a very good chance you'll make a full recovery. I know you're doing whatever you can to come back to us, Sweetheart, but please hurry. I love you so much, MacKenzie. You said you liked to hear me say it, so I'll say it again and again and again. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please come back to me."

She hears him. 

She can't quite work out what he's doing in the strange world she now inhabits-one that's entirely white, strange and humpy, as if comprised of rumpled sheets-but his presence is enormously reassuring. She's profoundly grateful to learn their daughter is alive and healthy and in his arms, right this minute. She longs to see her, to see the both of them, so she tries to open her eyes, tries to squeeze his hand, but she can't because she can't see or feel her body at the level which would make movement possible. Her body is clearly there, though, because she can feel Will's fingers entwined with hers. She can hear the abiding love in his voice, along with the worry and profound fear and she wants to soothe him but she can't.

She can only listen.


	18. Chapter 18

She doesn't respond, and he's imagining all sorts of reasons why and none of them are benign, and the fear is choking him, and he doesn't know what to do or say but she has to come out of this, _she has to, she has to. Please, Mac, please_ , but he doesn't say that because he has to pretend that everything's okay because he doesn't want to alarm her and Jesus Christ, he thought he didn't have any tears left, but now they're threatening to spill over again and he fights to hold them back, fights to stay calm and steady because that's what she needs and that's what he has to give her.

He takes a deep breath. What should he say to her? If he were in her situation, and he could hear _her_ , what would he want to hear? He'd be wondering what the hell happened, for starters, so he decides he'll start with that.

"In case you're wondering what's going on, Mac, you stopped breathing this morning while you were in labor."

_Was it only this morning? She can remember being unable to breathe and the last thing she remembers is seeing Will standing there, sobbing._

"Amniotic fluid got into your bloodstream, and you had an allergic reaction that caused a blood clot in your lungs. I guess it's pretty rare, but they realized what was happening, and got the baby out. It was touch and go for a while, but you made it, and here we are. Everyone's still here, waiting for you to come out of it, but you take as long as you need. We'll be here whenever you wake up."

There's still no response from her, but he keeps talking because he remembers reading about a guy who'd awakened from a coma claiming he'd heard every word that had been said to-and about him-while he appeared unconscious.

"God, I hope you're in there, MacKenzie," he says. "But if you aren't, we'll either get you back or ... live with the new normal. But whatever happens, you're not going to have to go through it alone. I'll be with you every step of the way, I promise. We'll face it together."

_He's so frightened right now; she can feel the fear coming off him, but he's trying to be strong for her, and she just wishes there was some way to signal to him that she can hear him, that she hasn't disappeared._

The baby starts to fuss, and her heart starts hammering in her chest. That's their _daughter._  She's here. She's finally here. MacKenzie tries to open her eyes, tries to turn her head toward the sound, but her body simply won't obey. She, herself, is getting frightened now. What if this _is_ the new normal? What if her body never obeys again?

"I think she needs a change and a bottle," Will is saying. "Liv taught me how to do both, so don't worry. I'll be back in a minute."

She hears him rustling around as he wraps the baby back up in the blanket, grabs a diaper and wipes from the bag, and heads to the other side of the room.

"It's okay, Sweetheart," she can hear him saying to the crying baby. "We'll get you fixed up and fed, and then maybe we'll put you close to Mummy. Would you like that? I think she would, too."

MacKenzie can hear him singing softly to the baby, and she's so moved she'd burst into tears if her tear ducts were working. Her breasts are working, though, because as the baby cries, she can feel them starting to leak.

Five minutes later, he's back by her side, with the baby freshly diapered and swaddled in a blanket. She's stopped crying, so he takes a bottle from the portable bottle warmer in the bag, settles her back in his arms and starts feeding her.

"I got her changed and now I'm feeding her, Mac. Don't worry-she's not getting formula. They have a milk bank, so that'll tide her over until you can breastfeed her."

_Stay positive, right? Act like she **will** come out of this._

The baby finishes the bottle, and Will puts her against his shoulder. "Let's see if we can get that air out of you, Honey," he says. "I think we can. Don't you? Let's give it a try." He pats her gently on the back one, two, three times and she rewards him with a surprisingly loud burp. "Good job, Sweetheart. Good thing you got that one out 'cause that would have hurt later."

He settles her back in his arms and looks longingly at MacKenzie. She's in a queen-sized bed that's obviously meant for two, and he wonders if maybe she'd find it comforting if he climbed in next to her. He would-if he were in her shoes. At that moment, the door opens, and a nurse comes in, so he decides to take the bull by the horns.

"Would it be okay if we climbed into bed with her?" he asks the nurse as she's taking MacKenzie's vital signs. "I just want to be near ... I just want the baby to be near her and ... I won't fall asleep ... I just ... maybe if MacKenzie feels the baby close to her ... maybe it will get through to her somehow ..."

He trails off, and his eyes are bright, and he's a little ashamed to be pleading, but he would feel so much better if MacKenzie weren't so far away from him, and if she's in there, listening, he thinks maybe she would feel better, too.

He'd be gratified to know she _is_ listening and she hopes the nurse gives him permission because if anyone can help her out of this mess it's Will, and besides, she longs to be close to him.

"Alright," the nurse says. "Don't jostle her and don't fall asleep."

Good. Now he just has to make sure he doesn't injure her.

"Just so I know ... the places we absolutely have to watch out for are her groin and abdomen, right? Nowhere else?"

"Right. Do you want me to hold the baby while you get in?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He hands the baby to her, takes a deep breath and walks to the other side of the bed.

"Hi Sweetheart," he says as he gets in. "It's just me. I hate having you so far away and I think the baby does, too, so I thought we'd come for a visit."

The nurse hands the slumbering baby back to Will and he puts her on the bed between them. As soon as the nurse is out of the room, he picks the baby back up, sidles up as close to MacKenzie as he can and puts the baby on her chest.

"Here she is, Mac."

Will examines her body for any reaction but there is none, and although he tells himself that doesn't necessarily mean anything, it sure as fuck feels like it does. He tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"I don't know if you can feel her, but she's sleeping, Honey. Don't worry-I've got her. I won't let her fall."

MacKenzie can't open her eyes but she can feel the weight on her chest, can smell her daughter's delightful baby smell-a combination of warm summer skin, clean cotton and sugared milk. She wants to hold her so badly, wants to hold the both of them so badly but she can't open her eyes and she can't make her hands work. Tears of frustration leak from her eyes.

Will glances at her face and when he sees a tear leaking from the corner of her eye, he wants to whoop with joy.

"Mac! You know we're here, don't you? I'm going to hold your hand. If you can hear me, move your finger."

He grasps it and it takes every bit of strength she has to move it, but she does. Her finger twitches, and he's not sure it's a reflex, so he asks her to do it again. She does, with more force this time, and there's no mistaking it. She heard him.

"Mac!" he cries, kissing her cheek. "You're in there. Are you in pain? Are you okay? Move your finger if you're in pain."

He gets no response, so he takes that as a good sign.

"No? Good."

It occurs to him that it may just be wishful thinking on his part, so he's compelled to test her again. He has to be sure.

"I just want to make sure you actually can hear me. What's the baby's middle name? The one you want to give her? Move your finger when you hear it, okay? Ready? Rebecca," he says softly.

No response.

"Elaine."

No response. On the off-chance she's listening, he can't resist needling her.

"Erin."

 _She inwardly rolls her eyes. What the fuck is he doing? Get_ _to the right name, Will._

"Ruth."

It's not just her finger that twitches this time; she actually squeezes his hand.

"Oh my God, you did it."

She did. Because having him near her makes her feel stronger, safer, and more centred, which is apparently doing all sorts of things for her motor control. Sensing her need, he nuzzles her ear and breathes in her sweet scent. "I love you," he whispers. "I love you. What can I do to help? What do you need?"

The word _Stay_ is on her lips and then, miraculously, it's out of her mouth. It's barely audible, but he hears it, and when he does, he bursts into tears.

"Oh, Mac," he says.

The door opens and Lord and Lady McHale come in, somehow unsurprised to see Will in bed with their daughter.

"Will?" Lady McHale says when she sees his eyes are wet. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he looks up at them. "She just spoke to me, Penny. She said _stay_."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Watch. What's the baby's name, Mac?"

"Re ... becc ... a," MacKenzie breathes. It's hard to form the letter 'R,' so she kind of slides past it, but the intent is unmistakable.

"Oh Mackie, darling. Are you alright? Are you in pain?"

She still can't open her eyes but at least she's able to communicate.

"No ... Mum."

"She's coming out of it, Penny. She is."

She's suddenly exhausted and although she loves every single one of them beyond reason, she just wants to sleep.

"Tired," she murmurs.

"What?"

"Sleep."

"You want to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Alright, darling," Lady McHale says. "We'll be back tomorrow. Will, Liv and Harriet have offered to stay in the suite with the baby tonight so you can stay with Mackie."

_Thank God for extended family. If this had happened in New York, who would he have been able to call? Charlie?_

"Are they sure?"

"Yes."

"Kiss ... baby," MacKenzie murmurs.

"You want to kiss the baby?" Will says.

"Yes."

Will brings the baby up to MacKenzie's face and she breathes her in. She moves her lips against the baby's skin and says, with her last remaining bit of strength, "Mummy ... loves ... you."

"She loves you, too," Will says, ready to burst into tears again.

Lady McHale takes the baby and bag and they're left alone.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," he says, snuggling up to her. "I love you."

"Love ... you ... too. Kiss ... me."

He raises himself on one elbow, leans over and presses his lips against hers and by God, she's going to return the favour. She does her best and he can feel her lips flutter. He does it again and she parts her lips. He's doing it. He's bringing her out of it. He can feel it.

"More," she whispers.

Suddenly her eyes pop open and she can see his blue ones staring back at her, bathing her in warmth. God, she loves this man.

"Billy."

"Welcome back," he says tenderly and kisses her once more.

"I ... love ... you ... so much."

She can't keep her eyes open so she lets them close.

"Me, too. Me, too. You get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

"You'll ... stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good ... love ... you."

"Love you, too, Sweetheart. Sweet dreams."

For the first time since he arrived back at the hotel after his shopping trip with Harriet this morning, he feels himself starting to relax.

She's coming back to him. It's a fucking miracle, and he could not be more grateful. He's going to make a huge donation to this hospital. He's going to find out the name of the doctor who diagnosed her, and send him and all his relatives on an all-expenses-paid trip to wherever the fuck they want to go, for however long they want to go. He doesn't care if it bankrupts him. That doctor and everyone involved in her care saved her life-and his. He will never, ever be able to repay them.

MacKenzie sleeps. She doesn't awaken when the nurse checks on her two hours later, which worries Will, but the nurse assures him that recovery is exhausting and that she'll probably be awake in the morning.

He finally falls asleep, and is immediately drawn into a terrible nightmare. He's reliving the events of the day, only it has an alternate, horrible ending. She dies, and he's left weeping over her body.

_"No, Mac, no. Please. Please come back to me. I can't live without you. I don't want to live without you. Please. Please."_

He says it aloud, which wakes her up, and he's struggling against her. The grief in his voice, the absolute devastation, gives her the strength to turn her head and say his name.

"Billy."

He doesn't wake up, so she says it more insistently.

"Billy ... _wake ... up."_

Still, he doesn't hear her, so she musters all of her strength.

 _"Billy!"_ she says loudly.

Her voice jerks him awake. He's got his face pressed into her neck, just like in his dream, but it's warm and soft instead of cold and brittle.

"Mac?" he says, opening his eyes. The room is dark, but he can hear her and he can feel her.

"I'm ... here ... Billy. It was ... just ... a ... dream."

"I thought you were dead. Oh my God, Mac. It was horrible."

"Just ... a ... dream."

He burrows more closely into her. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Just ... you. Love ... you."

"I love you, too."

They fall asleep. When she awakens in the morning, he's still got his face buried in her neck, and his arm is flung protectively over her chest, pulling her against him even in sleep. She can feel his breath against her skin and she wills herself to turn her head so that she's leaning it against his.

Her body obeys. _Hallelujah!_

"Billy," she whispers, kissing his hair. "Billy, wake up."

He awakens slowly, disoriented. It all comes rushing back to him and he's terrified all over again.

"Mac?"

"Right here."

He raises his head to look at her. Her eyes are open and she's looking at him intently.

"You're back," he says happily. "Can you move your legs?"

She raises one leg with effort, then does the same with the other.

"Your arms?"

She does the same with each arm.

"Oh, Sweetheart. I'll get the nurse, tell her you're awake, and then go get the baby."

"Ask if I can ... breastfeed now."

"I will. I'll be right back with her."

He hops out of bed, tells the nurse she's awake, and makes his way back to the birthing suite. He knocks and when he enters, he sees that Liv's asleep in the bed. Harriet's sitting in the plush leather recliner, feeding the baby, looking sleep-deprived and a little worse-for-wear.

"How is she?" Harriet says apprehensively.

"She wants to see the baby."

"She's awake? She's talking?"

"She is," Will smiles.

Harriet's face crumples. "Really?"

"Really. How's the baby? Thank you for taking care of her last night. I ... we ... really appreciate it."

"She's an angel. She doesn't sleep much but she's a darling." She looks at the baby, who's looking around for Will. "She heard your voice, so she's looking for you. Come say hello."

He bends down, picks up his daughter and cradles her in his arms. "Hey, Sweetheart. Did you have a good night with Auntie Harriet and Auntie Liv? Let's go see your mummy."

"Can I come, too, Will? If you don't think she'll mind? I'd like to see her meet the baby." She swallows hard. "And see for myself that she's okay."

He doesn't think MacKenzie will mind. "Want to wake Liv? She might want to see her, too."

"You don't think she's angry at Liv anymore?" Harriet whispers.

"I don't think she is. Something like this kind of puts everything in perspective."

Harriet wakes Liv, tells her the good news and they trail behind Will as he heads back to MacKenzie's room. When they get there, MacKenzie's bed is raised and she's looking expectantly at the door.

Will steps in, followed by Liv and Harriet. Harriet bursts into tears when she sees MacKenzie sitting up and looking alert.

"Mackie?"

"Don't ... cry ... Harriet."

Harriet bounds over and gives her a hug. "I'm so glad you're alright," she whispers. MacKenzie nods and Harriet steps back to make room for Liv, whose eyes are moist.

"Oh, Mackie. We were so worried about you." She looks searchingly at her sister. "I'm so sorry for what I said ... the other night. I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?" She turns back to face Will. "Can you both forgive me?"

"Liv's been a Godsend with the baby, Mac," he says, hoping to grease the wheels. "She and Harriet, both, actually, but Liv, especially."

Of course, she can forgive her. Everything that happened before is of absolutely no consequence.

"Of course, I forgive you, Liv. I ... love ... you."

"I love you, too, Mackie. Now. We'll let you say hello to your daughter."

She steps back to make room for Will, who goes around to sit on the other side of the bed.

"Here she is," Will says to the baby. "Here's your mummy."

MacKenzie opens her arms, but Will hesitates.

"You okay? You feel strong enough to hold her?"

"Yes."

He places the baby in her arms and MacKenzie's heart swells with love. For the baby and for Will and for everyone in the room. She can't help but stare at their daughter, who seems to have inherited the best features of each parent. She looks happy and healthy and MacKenzie can't quite believe it. So much pain has led up to this moment, so much uncertainty, but in the end, there's just this perfect creature, who's staring at MacKenzie and marveling at her voice.

"She has your hair and your eyes and your chin, Billy," she says, staring at her daughter. "She's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I can't believe she's here."

She turns to Will and because absolutely nothing has changed, and because he is as powerless against that gravitational pull she emits as he has ever been, he leans in and captures her lips with his own.

She returns the kiss, then turns back to look at their daughter. "Look at this perfect creature we made, Will. It's amazing, isn't it? She's a physical manifestation of our love. She's perfect. And so are you." She turns to him again and presses her lips against his. "I love you so much, Billy. I love you. I love you."

He leans his forehead against hers. "I love you, too, Sweetheart. I love you, too."


	19. Chapter 19

_Six weeks later_

The front door opens as MacKenzie's putting the baby to bed and she can hear Will shuffling around in the entryway, shedding his jacket. She hears something crash to the floor and then _"Christ!"_ as Will tries to right whatever fell over. The baby's eyes pop open and MacKenzie's heart nearly stops but she just keeps singing softly to her, letting the words come out soft and slow. " _And those were days of roses ... poetry and prose ... and Martha all I had was you and all you had was me_ ..." Will's arguably got more talent in the crooning department than she does-more vocal control and less breathiness-but the sound seems to soothe the baby, regardless.

It's an old Tom Waits song called _Martha_ that Will used to play when they were together before. He'd sing it to her slow and soft-just like she's singing it now-and by the time the last verse would roll around ( _And I remember quiet evenings ... trembling close to you_ ), she'd be sidled up against him, stroking his back and looking at him with unabashed adoration. He told her once he loved the song because it was heartfelt yet beautifully underplayed and no amount of ridicule could ever dent it. During her long months in exile she'd tortured herself with it and even now it's still the top-played song on her iPhone. After they broke up she often wondered if he still played it and, if he did, whether he thought of her.

" _There was no tomorrows ... we'd packed away our sorrows ... and we saved them for a rainy day_ ," MacKenzie sings as she lowers the baby into the crib, making sure the wearable blanket isn't tucked under her legs. The baby closes her eyes, her perfect strawberry mouth opening and closing and she looks so sweet lying there, so peaceful, that MacKenzie can't resist leaning in again to press her lips against her forehead. She didn't think it was possible to love anyone as much as she loves Will, but she does, absolutely as much. They've made a perfect little family together and she couldn't be happier or more grateful.

As she exits the nursery, MacKenzie sees the lights go on in the living room, so that's the direction she takes. As she walks, she runs her fingers through her hair, pinches her cheeks and carefully adjusts her wrap so that it slides down one shoulder. Words and thoughts may get her going but Will's always been strictly visual and she's hoping a glimpse of her bare shoulders will help move things along tonight. She's been waiting to make love to him face-to-face for months and she's anxious to get the party started.

When Will walks by the kitchen the scent of something spicy and fragrant wafts into his nostrils. _Chicken? Beef?_ Whatever it is, his stomach growls appreciatively. They usually do take-out so he's surprised to see a sink full of dirty dishes. _What is she up to?_ he wonders. He passes the dining room and sees the table is set with the fancy dishes she talked him into getting when they were together before, a couple of wine glasses, and a simple bouquet of flowers. _Are we celebrating something?_ he wonders. He's just about to find out when he narrowly avoids running into her.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," he says, kissing her on the cheek and looking her up and down. She's wearing a silk, cream-colored wrap that hits mid-thigh (a marked change from the sweatpants and t-shirts she's been wearing of late) and it's casually falling off one shoulder. The porcelain white skin of her collarbone is exposed and dusted with freckles and the spaghetti straps of a teddy he recognizes from before are plainly visible. Her hair is up, she's wearing mascara and she's easily the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. He loves her so much his heart aches. Not just because she's brilliant and beautiful but because she makes him feel loved in a way no one else ever has or ever cared to. MacKenzie McHale has never been one to disguise her feelings and the way she's staring at him now, with eyes wide and full of affection, makes him feel like he's just scored the winning touchdown. It reminds him of what Charlie said the night Will got the balloons - that anyone with eyes could see that MacKenzie was in love with him. Even now Will still can't quite believe it: out of all the men in the world she wants _him_? It's a goddamned miracle.

He reaches around behind her, places his palm on the small of her back and slides down. The silk slips through his fingers and when he brings his hand to a stop just below the rise of her ass, she looks up at him with a saucy grin. _Find something amusing, do you? I'll show you_ , he thinks but before he can she's reaching up, threading her fingers through his hair and kissing him softly. "Billy," she whispers against his lips and because it's a sigh more than anything else it's somehow more intimate than a full-on vocalization. He captures her breath, angles his other hand down between their pelvises and lets his fingers slide under her wrap.

She parts her thighs as his fingers curl up and come dangerously close to her warm center. He loves to tease so he's not quite moving fast enough for her pleasure so she groans impatiently against his mouth. " _Billy_ ," she says again, only this time it's a little desperate. Slowly, carefully, he curls one finger up, searching for the elastic on her panties but he only feels hot skin, soft and silky smooth. "Mac," he groans into her mouth. "No panties?" he says. She doesn't respond, just brings her hand up from his ass and slides it down inside the waistband of his pants and into his boxers.

Her hand moves down his ass and she squeezes one cheek as she plants both feet solidly on the ground so she can press him hard against her. He can't help but groan but he's not so far gone yet that a little begging from her would go amiss. He slowly withdraws his fingers and drags them between her thighs and when she feels them moving in absolutely the wrong direction she abandons all pretense and clamps her thighs together on his wrist.

Thoroughly pleased with himself, he just grins. It's a happy, giddy smile that lights up his whole face and she can't help but mirror it back to him. "You tease," she pretends to pout, laughing. "If you keep that up I'm not going to let you have your way with me after dinner."

"Now who's the tease?" he says, holding her more firmly by the waist and dragging her against him. "I know for a fact you're off-limits for another two weeks." He brings his lips down to hers again and skates his tongue against her bottom lip.

"You're wrong, Billy," she says, raising her eyebrows at him meaningfully. "Tonight's the night," she says, "but dinner first." With that, she extricates herself from his arms, turns on her heel and heads for the kitchen.

What?

He was there when she'd asked her London doctor how soon they could resume "intimate relations" and even though he'd been trying to stifle a laugh when the doctor replied ( _when the fuck did MacKenzie become so coy?_ ) he's sure the answer was eight weeks. Could she possibly have said six? No, it had to be eight ... mostly because his plans are contingent upon it being eight: if it's actually six he's fucked because she's going to want to use her diaphragm which has something like a 10% failure rate brand new and if the state of hers is any indication he wouldn't be surprised if she's had hers since her Cambridge days. Which means the failure rate is probably closer to 25%.

What the fuck was he thinking, throwing out his stash of condoms? He'd made some idiotic grand gesture about it when they first got back, wanting to let MacKenzie know he belonged to her and her alone and now he's screwed. There's no way he can replenish his supply on such short notice because it's not like he can go to the drugstore: the last time he tried, Page Six ran a story about his hemorrhoids-all because he'd been following the advice of his idiot sister. She'd called him up one night after the show, telling him he really should do something about the dark circles under his eyes and insisted hemorrhoid cream was just the thing. He'd taken her advice and been ribbed mercilessly about it for months. Which might not have been so bad if it had actually worked.

Should he ask MacKenzie to go to the pharmacy? No, if he does, she's going to flip. She hates condoms because they're "unnatural" and put up "unwanted barriers" between them or some shit like that. Besides, even condoms break. He'd much rather wait until there's absolutely no risk of conception. Then he can relax and enjoy it. 

Christ. He guesses he's officially run out of options. Which means he's going to have to tell her.

He'd been planning to broach the subject this weekend after he had a chance to figure out the best way to go about it but he still hasn't managed to come up with a way to spin this that will not piss her off. How the hell is he going to get out of doing it tonight without blowing everything to smithereens?

As he's thinking, she appears beside him. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Now ... where were we?" she says, stepping up to kiss him. She smells warm and soft and like something else he can't put his finger on and how the hell is he going to be able to resist her when he's been fantasizing about making love to her properly for weeks (okay, years) now?

He takes a step back but she's running her fingers lightly up his forearm which is sending jolts of electricity straight to his groin.

_Keep it together, Will. Keep it together. No matter how sexy she looks, no matter how much you want her, this cannot happen._

He tries to change the subject. Outwardly and inwardly. "How was your day?" he asks. "How's the baby?"

"Fine," she says. Her fingers are still stroking his forearm and she steps right back into his personal space to give him another kiss which makes him take another step back.

_What has gotten into him?_

"I had my check-up and we went to a 'Mummy and me' playgroup. It seems to be more 'mummy' than 'me' at this point but the other mums seem nice." She steps up to kiss him again and now he knows what she smells like: it's lavender and vanilla, and everything about her is so goddamned attractive it makes his head spin.

He takes another step back, trying to clear his head.

"Everything go okay?" he asks. "With the check-up?"

"Yes."

"Good," he says. "Listen," he says, turning his body slightly away from her. "My head just started aching, so I should probably just hit the sack after dinner."

"Sorry you're not feeling well, Billy," she says. "Sit on the couch and I'll rub your temples."

"That's okay, I'll just take some Advil," he says, and then he's turning on his heel, making his way to the bathroom, presumably to the medicine cabinet.

She watches him go, perplexed, but decides she's not going to let it ruin their evening. When he comes back, the food is on the table and she's pouring him a glass of wine.

"Is everything alright, Will? You seem to be on edge."

"Everything's fine."

She's not buying it but decides not to press it: he'll tell her what's bothering him when he's ready. They eat, mostly in silence, and when he's finished, she gets up, picks up her non-alcoholic glass of wine and motions for him to open his arms. He does and when she climbs into his lap, he automatically nuzzles her ear. Shit. He pulls back a little, hoping she won't notice that he stopped.

"Is that a new robe?" he says, trying to cover. "You look beautiful."

"Yes," she says, looping an arm around his neck. "As I said, I was hoping to seduce my fiancé tonight. Rebecca will be six weeks old in two days, but I wanted to start the party early."

"Oh," he says, wracking his brain to come up with something that won't set her off. "Didn't your London doctor say eight weeks? Maybe we should wait? Just to be safe?"

"We're fine," she says, nuzzling his ear, which is making it impossible for him to think straight. "I asked my New York doctor about it this morning." _Figures the New York doctor would screw this up_ , Will thinks. He stops thinking when she trails her lips across his cheek to land delicately on his lips and starts doing something that is _his_ trademarked secret. Holy shit, when did she learn to do that?

"My God, Mac," he exclaims. "Have you been practicing ways to drive me wild while I'm at work?" Whatever the fuck she's doing is pushing him closer and closer to the breaking point: he just wants to shove all the dinner dishes onto the floor, hoist her up onto the edge of the table, open her legs and go down on her until she screams his name. Then he wants to build her up again until she's begging him to finish it and bury himself inside her (unprotected, of course; in his fantasies, the sex is _always_ unprotected). He wants to watch her beautiful face dissolve in ecstasy as he brings her to another orgasm and then he wants to fall over the edge with her. He can do the first part, certainly, but if he does, she's going to insist on the second and he simply can't risk it.

Fuck.

"Do you like the way I'm kissing you, Billy? I found one of your videos in the closet. _Instinct_ , my ass." she says, hopping off his lap and kneeling down beside him to unbuckle his pants. "I think those techniques might work just as well on other body parts, too."

"Kenz," he says, grabbing his belt buckle, doing it up and trying without success to surreptitiously adjust his hard-on. "Uh ... you look incredibly sexy tonight, and it's taking every ounce of willpower I have to resist you, but ..."

_Will? Turning down a chance to get laid?_

"'But' ... what? Why would you want to resist me? What's wrong? Is it your headache?"

"Uh ... _yes_. Yes, it is. I just want to go to bed."

"Orgasms relieve headaches," she says knowingly.

Oh, God. She's going to have an answer for everything. She always does.

"I don't think that will help in this case. I'll do the dishes. Why don't you go relax? I can run you a bath."

"Will, what's going on?"

"Nothing," he says, getting up.

"You don't want to go to bed with me because you have a headache. Two years ago, a broken leg didn't stop you. What's going on?"

"I ... uh ... just don't feel like ... having sex tonight."

This is not like him but she tells herself not to read too much into it: he has a headache (although it did come on suspiciously suddenly), he's not feeling well and he needs to sleep it off. That's all. Nothing against her. They can do it tomorrow.

"Well, I suppose we can put it off until morning if we do it before the baby wakes up. I'm in," she says, getting up from the floor. "Are you?"

Christ, she's going to be after him tomorrow morning and tomorrow afternoon and tomorrow night, for sure. Fuck. What are the odds that he'll be able to come up with a better excuse by morning?

"Uh ... you know, Kenz, uh, to tell you the truth, I'd rather wait a couple weeks."

"Why?"

He sighs. "Because I'm having a procedure done Tuesday and the recovery time is two weeks. I'd feel better if we waited until after that."

"Will, are you alright?" she asks, alarmed. "What kind of procedure?"

"A ... a ... a."

"A ... a ... a ... _what_?"

"A vasectomy," he says, not quite looking at her.

She blinks. "Can you repeat that? My mind's playing tricks on me - for a second I thought I heard you say you're getting a _vasectomy_."

"I did."

"You did," she repeats. "Are you -" _out of your fucking mind?_ she starts to say, but he cuts her off.

"It's all good," he says quickly. "I thought I'd planned it so you and I would be back in the saddle at the same time but I guess I miscalculated. It's only a couple weeks, though, so we'll be good to go ... " He looks at the calendar on his watch. "Two weekends from now. More or less. And I promise I will make it worth the wait. Do you want some more wine?"

She's looking at him like he just sprouted another head. He can also see the anger starting to build and he knows that if he didn't have a headache before he's just about to get one.

"Why do you have an appointment for a vasectomy, Will?" she says, trying to hold her temper.

"So you don't get pregnant."

"I understand the point of the procedure, Will." she snaps, all attempts at civility forgotten. "What I don't understand is why you want one. Did you have any intention of telling me before the fact or were you just going to show up snipped?"

"I was going to tell you this weekend."

"You don't want any more children."

"No ... I just ..."

Christ, why is this so difficult? Does he really have to spell it out for her?

"I don't want to get you pregnant."

"So you do want more children?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to having more ... eventually."

"Well, how are we supposed to get them if you have a vasectomy?"

"We can adopt. Or ... hire a surrogate. There are lots of options-well, two, at least. I just don't want to get you pregnant, Mac."

"We can use birth control until you're ready, Billy. I wasn't planning on using it tonight, but if you want to wait, we can."

Now he looks at her as if she's the one who's grown two heads.

"You wanted to do it tonight without anything? _Bare?_ "

"I'm not getting any younger, Will, and neither are you. Who knows how long it will take this time?"

"You _want_ to get pregnant?" He honestly can't comprehend what he's hearing right now. "Have you lost your mind? After what we've just been through? Not to mention the fact that we have a six- _week_ -old - not a six- _month_ -old or a six- _year_ -old. We have a six- _week_ -old, Mac. Six _weeks_! What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm not 20 anymore, and neither are you, and it might take months or years for me to get pregnant again, so why not start trying now?"

"Jesus, Mac. If you did get pregnant tonight - what the fuck would we do then? Provided you lived through it, I mean? I'm barely functioning at work on the little sleep I do get, and you want to add another baby to the mix?"

That stops her.

_Does he wish ... no ... he's just as besotted with the baby as she is._

Isn't he?

He gets up and starts taking the dishes to the sink.

"You're not happy with the baby," she says slowly, following him into the kitchen. "You regret it. Do you regret me, too?"

"What? No." he says, turning around to face her. "I'm crazy about both of you. I just wish she'd take an interest in sleeping through the night is all. In case you haven't noticed, Mac, I'm _old_."

"Is that why you want to get a vasectomy? Because you think you're too old to have more children?"

"No. I would love to have another one - I don't like the idea of her being an only child. I told you, Mac. It's because I don't want to get you pregnant."

"You're not making any sense, Will. You want another child but you also want a vasectomy? Make up your mind."

"It's not about not wanting more children!" he exclaims. "It's about not wanting to get you pregnant."

"I told you: we can wait until you're ready."

"Mac, listen to me. I will never be ready. _Ever_."

"What do you mean?"

"I am never going to get you pregnant again."

He turns away to scrape the plates into the garbage, so she puts her hand on his back.

"Ever?"

"Ever," he says flatly.

"I don't understand. Before Rebecca was born, you talked about having two more in quick succession. What happened?"

He tries to keep the irritation out of his voice. Does he really have to explain it to her?

"You almost _died_ , MacKenzie. That's what happened."

"That's why you want a vasectomy. Because you're afraid it will happen again."

"Bingo," he says, scraping the remnants of another dish into the garbage.

She takes the dish out of his hand and puts it on the counter behind him, then grabs both hands and stares into his eyes.

"Will, this is not the kind of decision you can make by yourself."

"Actually, it is," he says. "Because you're not the one who's going to end up alone with a couple of children to raise."

She rolls her eyes and drops his hands.

" _Billy._ The risk of recurrence in subsequent pregnancies is practically nil."

"But it's _not_ nil."

"Only insofar as it can happen in any pregnancy. What happened was a product of this particular pregnancy. The amniotic fluid was chemically abnormal and it wouldn't be in another pregnancy, so even if it leaked into my bloodstream again, there's nothing in the research to suggest I'd be allergic to it. It was a fluke, Will. Lots of women have gone on to have healthy pregnancies after amniotic fluid embolisms."

"I can't risk it. And I am not going to be able to enjoy sex so long as pregnancy is a possibility. So either you have a hysterectomy or a tubal ligation or whatever women have these days, or I have a vasectomy. A vasectomy is the least invasive option, so we'll do that."

She takes a step back from him. "You can't just make a decision like that without me, Will. We're partners, remember?"

"We are. But there's no other way, so in this case, I have to decide for us."

"No," she says firmly. "You don't get to decide for me. I'm not going to give up on having more children because you're afraid."

"Look - I banked some sperm last week. It was tested and everything's fine, so we can harvest your eggs and hire a surrogate. It'll be just as much our child as Rebecca is, only without the risk of you _dying_."

"Billy, I know you're afraid ..."

"No, Mac. This is not something you can talk me out of. I've made up my mind."

"Billy -"

"Stop it, Mac. Just stop it!"

"Shut it," she hisses. "You'll wake the baby!"

"Sorry. Look. This conversation is over. There is nothing you can say to change my mind and honestly, it's pretty fucking selfish of you to even want to," he says, stalking into the living room.

"Selfish?" she hisses. "Me? Because I want to have more children with you? You're the one who's being selfish, Will!"

He turns around.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" he says, matching her volume. "The only reason you can be so fucking glib about it is because you have no idea what we went through. And you don't want to know because it would mess up the fairytale you have in your head!"

"I know you were scared, Will. I _know_ that. But I would be monitored closely ..."

" _Scared_ doesn't even begin to cover it, MacKenzie! There is not a word in the English language that begins to cover it. I will never forget your mother's face when Harriet told her you stopped breathing. My God. She aged a hundred years. Or your father sobbing into his hands because you were _dying_. The fact that you can even ask that of us shows you have no fucking clue what we went through!"

"Will," she says slowly. "I know you were terrified. But it's not going to happen again."

"You don't know that. You can't know that. And unless you can give me a 100% guarantee that it is not going to happen again, you are not getting pregnant again. Not by me, anyway."

"Ho! Was that one of your little comebacks or are you insinuating I'm sleeping around?"

"I'm not insinuating anything. I'm just saying I am never going to get you pregnant again."

"Well, I guess we're at an impasse, then."

She stalks into the bedroom and starts getting undressed. He follows her in there and watches as she shimmies into jeans and a cotton shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed."

"Why?'

"I'm leaving," she says, gathering Rebecca's baby things.

"Where are you going?"

"To a hotel," she says, slipping on a jacket.

"Why?"

"Because you've broken my heart _again_ , Billy."

"I'm not trying to break your heart, Mac," he says, following her out to the living room where she's gathering things to put in her bag. "I'm trying to preserve mine. And our daughter's. And your family's."

He takes a step toward her. "Mac, don't walk out on me."

"Why? You're treating me like a recalcitrant child and you know I can't stand it when you do that."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry. Sorry I'm pissed, maybe, but not sorry for being a condescending ass. You love it. You get off on it."

"I don't."

"Don't kid yourself. You do."

She takes off her engagement ring and hands it to him. "Here."

His jaw drops.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he says, his voice low and deadly. "Are you breaking up with me because I don't want you to die?"

"That's not why, Billy."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"Billy - "

"Answer the question, MacKenzie. Are you actually fucking breaking up with me over this?"

"I can't be with a man who thinks it's okay to make these kinds of decisions without me. I don't want something artificial between us when we have sex and I want more children, Will. I _know_ that. And you won't give them to me. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"So you _are_ breaking up with me." He says it incredulously, willing her to take it back but she just stands there, silently furious.

"Listen to me, MacKenzie," he says, deciding to sidestep the first thing she said as he takes a step toward her. "There won't be anything between us when we have sex and I _will_ give you more children. Just not the way you want them. What does it fucking matter how we get them?"

"It matters to me, Will."

"So being _pregnant_ matters more to you than I do? Wow." He sits down on the couch, clutching the ring.

"That's not why. I just told you. I can't be with someone who thinks it's okay to make huge, life-altering decisions without me."

"So you _are_ breaking up with me. After everything we've been through, you're breaking up with me." His eyes are bright with tears. "Fuck. I did it again. I can't fucking believe I fucking did it again."

"What?"

"I _believed_ you. I believed you loved me."

"I _do_ love you."

"If you're willing to break up with me over this, you do not love me."

"I do."

"You _don't_."

"Billy, I do."

How the fuck can she think that breaking up with him is an appropriate response to what just happened? How can she be so fucking fickle? Maybe he was right all along. Maybe it was all a lie. A terrifying urge to shake some sense into her comes over him and he wants to smash everything in the living room to pieces. Then the rage is gone and he's just filled with sorrow. No one has ever truly loved him. Not really. Not to the point where he could actually count on them. "I was right the first time. It _was_ all a lie," he says, blinking back tears.

" _No_ ..." she says, taking a step toward him. She can't let him think that for one second. She doesn't know what the fuck she's doing at this moment or why she took her ring off or even what her goal is - she's acting purely on instinct and an overwhelming need to let him know that he _cannot_ make these kinds of decisions without her.

"No. It was _not_ all a lie. I love you, Will. I just can't let you treat me like what I think doesn't matter."

Tentatively, she reaches out to touch his forearm but he jerks it away. "Please don't touch me."


	20. Chapter 20

One argument. They have one argument and suddenly she's acting as if there's a question mark hanging over their entire relationship—over its very existence. What the fuck is that about? It wouldn't even occur to him to wonder such a thing. Didn't they put that shit behind them six weeks ago? As far as he's concerned, they're together for life. Isn't that the new baseline? Their basic resting pulse? As much a fact as the sun coming up in the morning? How is it not the same for her?

"You took off your ring because we're _arguing_ , Mac." he says, his voice low and angry. "If that's all it takes for you to want to end things, we're on pretty fucking shaky ground."

MacKenzie looks at him, unblinking. That's not why she took it off. She did it to let him know he can't make unilateral decisions about their life together and expect her to put up with it. Admittedly, there might have been other, less damaging ways to prove her point, but she's absolutely incensed that he would even consider making an appointment for a vasectomy without her permission. 

"Don't try to minimize your part in this, Will. It's _not_ just an argument. Yes, you were going to tell me about your appointment this weekend but you made it perfectly clear it would have been an announcement and not a discussion. I deserve to have a say in this. I _insist_ on having a say in this. Because that's what a relationship between two equals looks like." 

He'd much rather focus on the thing she did wrong, but he guesses maybe there's a little bit of blame to go around. He should have discussed it with her, and if he's being perfectly honest he knows exactly why he didn't: he was trying to think of an airtight argument beforehand that would preempt any discussion.

He doesn't know what to say to her now; all he knows is that she needs to put that goddamned ring back on her finger because at least then they'll be resuming this argument from a place where leaving is off the table. He gets up, takes the ring off the shelf and hands it back to her.

"We can keep talking about this, but I'd like you to put this back on before we do."

She closes her fingers over it, then gets up to put it back on the shelf behind him. When she turns back around to face him, she can see the hurt in his eyes but she cannot let him think he can run roughshod over her.

"No," she says, heading back to the couch. "We have to sort this out. Then I'll put it back on."

 _Why the fuck is she being so stubborn? Does she_ want _to leave? Is that what this is about?_  

He grabs her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "I'm not sorting anything out until you put it back on," he says flatly. "It means you're committed to me and I need to know you're committed to me."

What is he talking about? Of course, she's committed to him. What she's not committed to is a lifetime of him thinking he can make decisions without her. When she’d accepted his proposal, it hadn’t occurred to her to read the Terms and Conditions; she'll put his ring back on when he crosses out the line that says he can make all the important decisions.

"Right now, the only thing it means is that I'm engaged to a man who doesn't care what I think," she says, eyes blazing.

"Mac, _please_."

Despite her fury, the way his voice quavers gives her pause. She's actually scaring him. And not in the way she intended. He actually thinks she wants to break up with him.

"Billy," she says, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "I have no intention of breaking up with you now or ever, but I can't believe you made this decision without me. If that's the way you think our marriage is going to go, if those are the terms under which you offered me your ring, I can't accept it. Offer me a marriage in which we're equals, where we make these kinds of decisions together, and I'll be happy to put it back on."

He guesses that's fair. "Okay," he says simply.

"Okay," she repeats. She reaches behind him, plucks the ring off the shelf and slips it back on her finger. It isn't enough to quell his anger, though, because even though he knows he fucked up, so did she. She can't just take her ring off every time they have an argument. She can't just go around threatening to destroy everything on a whim. He can't live like that. He decides to tell her exactly that but he's upset so it ends up coming out dark and threatening and all kinds of wrong.

"There's something you should know, Mac," he says angrily. He's so intent on proving his point that he steps right into her personal space and she's forced to take a step back. Since he's still got his hand on her arm, it's like they're doing some ass-backward ballroom dance that ends after a single step. "The next time you take that ring off in anger," he says as if daring her to challenge him, "the next time you _threaten me_ by taking it off, it's over."

It's the voice he used to use with the staff, the one meant to make them not question his authority. She rolls her eyes because she’s _not_ the staff and she's never been intimidated by him: she's had his number since the moment she met him.

"Really? Do tell." she says, reversing course so that he's the one who has to take a step back.

"You think I'm kidding?" he says, planting his feet on the ground and forcing her to plow into him. She grabs his shoulder to get her balance and he snakes an arm around her waist to steady her.

"I'm deadly serious," he says. His breath is hot on her cheek and she marvels again at the fact that they have two relationships - one that exists on a conscious level and another that exists purely on a physical plane, where above all else they are deeply attracted to one another and always perfectly in sync. Before Will she'd never known such a thing even existed (she'd certainly never experienced it with anyone else) and it annoys her to no end that it's impossible to stay angry with him because of it.

"I didn't think I had to say this again," he half-whispers, half-hisses into her ear, "but maybe I do. I need a full commitment from you."

She forces herself to take a step back, but she doesn't get far because he's still got his arm around her waist and he arrests her flight by pulling her hips roughly against his own. "Leaving has to be off the table,” he says heatedly. “If we get into an argument, I need you to promise me we're both going to do whatever it takes to get things back on track. _Whatever_ it fucking takes! We can't use our engagement or our marriage as a bargaining chip!"

"You mean like you just did? You do have a full commitment from me and I agree with everything you just said, but your threats are becoming tiresome, Will." He blinks and she takes this opportunity to wrest herself from his grasp. "And there's something _you_ should know," she says. "There's not going to _be_ a marriage if you get a vasectomy without my permission, so you'd better cancel that fucking appointment."

"Mac -"

"I do _not_ give you permission to get a vasectomy, Will. And if I find out you've gone ahead and done it behind my back, you're right: it _is_ over. So, cancel it. _Now_."

He guesses he doesn't have a choice.

"Alright."

He takes the doctor's business card out of his wallet and picks up the phone next to him.

"Put it on speaker," MacKenzie says.

He does and dials the number.

"This is Will McAvoy. I have an appointment on Tuesday at 1:45 I need to cancel. I'll call back if I want to reschedule. Thanks."

He hangs up. "Satisfied?"

"Hardly. And for what it's worth, you won't be calling back to reschedule. 

"I thought we were going to discuss it." 

"I'm never going to be okay with it, so you can just forget it. There has to be another way."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I'm going to bed. Goodnight." 

She stalks into the bedroom and he gets a pillow and a blanket for the couch: far better to be out here than face the temptations of the flesh. He tries to fall asleep, but he can't, because sleeping apart from her just feels wrong. He tosses and turns for at least 45 minutes and as the minutes tick by, he keeps telling himself to resist, _resist_ : if he doesn't, and he goes in there, he's just going to end up breaking yet another promise to himself and she's going to end up pregnant. Then again, he's damaging their relationship by being out here at all. Christ. Is there any way he can fix things without giving in to her? If he had any self-restraint, yes, but does he? He can only hope so.

He gets up and walks back to the bedroom. The lights are out, but he can make out her silhouette in the darkness: she's lying on his side of the bed, facing the middle and clutching his pillow, which he takes as a good sign, considering. 

"Mac, are you awake?" he whispers.

"Get out," she says, her voice brittle with anger.

"Mac -"

"I said, get _out_. I'm tired of you threatening me."

"I didn't threaten you -"

"You did. You said if I took my ring off again, it's over. Just like it's over if I ever lie to you again or keep any secrets from you again. But somehow, it's not over when you decide to keep huge, life-altering secrets from me."

"Honey, I -" 

"Save it. Get out."

"Mac - "

"What the fuck are you doing in here when you've made it perfectly clear you want nothing to do with me?" 

"That is _not_ true. Jesus. You're right. I should have told you what I was planning to do sooner but I'm a coward. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry. As usual, you think you know what's best for everyone. You're so convinced of your own righteousness you didn't even think it was necessary to discuss it with me before you decided. It must be great to be you, Will. All-knowing, all-seeing, all-paternalistic _ass_."

He steps into the room and comes to sit next to her on the bed, then puts his hand on her shoulder and motions for her to turn over to face him. She does and she moves toward the center of the bed to give him more room. She's on her back now, staring at the ceiling, so he lays down on his side, facing her. He puts his hand across her chest, grips her shoulder for leverage and scoots toward her as close as he dares. 

"I _am_ sorry, Mac," he whispers. "I should have discussed it with you before I made the appointment. I was just trying to _do_ something ... be proactive, I guess ...to make the fear go away. I don't want to live the rest of my life in fear. I want to be able to have mind-blowing sex with you without worrying it's going to kill you. That's all. That's all this is."

His nearness is having the undesirable effect of making her less angry with him, so she turns on her side and reaches over his shoulder to turn on the lamp. Her arm isn't quite long enough for the task, however, so she has no choice but to lean into him, forcing him half on his back. He doesn't dare offer to turn on the lamp for her lest she bite his head off, so he waits patiently while she digs her elbows none-too-gently into his side. "Hey!" he exclaims when he gets a jab to the ribs. "Sorry," she mutters. She tries to proceed - or pretends to try to proceed—a bit more carefully, and when she finally reaches the switch, they both wince as the light illuminates the room.

He waits for her to move away. She tries to do exactly that—well, thinks about trying, anyway—but her body is having none of it. That unquenchable craving to be close to him—the one that consumed her during those long months in the wilderness—doesn't give a flying fig about secrets or motives or power plays. All it knows is that he's right there next to her, his body warm and solid and essentially hers to do with as she will (to the extent that he'll allow) and that's really all that matters. Still, she's not prepared to let him entirely off the hook. 

"That's _not_ all this is, Will. It's emblematic of everything that's wrong with our relationship." 

"Christ, MacKenzie, will you stop? There is nothing wrong with our relationship. _Nothing._ "

She tries to roll away from him and while he doesn't try to stop her with force, he does try to stop her with a few tiny movements he hopes will win her over. His palm is lying flat on her upper back, so he slowly slides it down, rubbing soothing circles into the cotton of her shirt. He stops for a moment, awaiting her reaction, and when there is none, he keeps moving down. By the time he reaches the tiny patch of silken skin above her jeans, he's gathered enough courage to slide four fingers under her waistband, which makes her burrow into his chest. Instantly. Involuntarily. Goddammit. 

"Did you know our relationship is so good it's the envy of everyone we work with?" he says cautiously, hoping to steer their conversation to a safer place.

"We don't work together."

"We did and we will again. I can't count the number of people who have come up to me since we got back to say how happy they are that we worked it out. At least six people have told me they have never seen two people who love each other as much as we do." 

Karen, for one—the hair stylist from hair and make-up he'd cried on when he and MacKenzie broke up. When he’d returned to the newsroom five days ago, Karen had been one of the first people he’d visited. Will’s mysterious absence had been the subject of much speculation over the last several weeks, so when he'd walked into the room, absolutely beaming, she’d been flabbergasted.

_“You’re back!” She’d said, rushing over to hug him but stopping short when she noticed he was bearing a tiny bundle. “Who is this?”_

_“My daughter.”_

_She’d looked at him, stunned._

_“You adopted? Is that where you’ve been?”_

_“No, she’s mine.” He’d looked at her and grinned. “And MacKenzie’s.”_

_“What!?” she’d exclaimed._

_“MacKenzie was pregnant when we broke up. I found out just before the baby was born.”_

_“And MacKenzie? Is she …”_

_“She’s upstairs saying hello to everyone.”_

_“Are you …”_

_“Back together?”_

_She’d nodded, holding her breath._

_“We are.”_

_“Oh my God, Will! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you both! Are you as overjoyed as you look?”_

_“I am. I_ am _.”_  

MacKenzie forces herself to lift her head. "Six people would never say the exact same thing, Will. Either you're lying or they are." 

"I'm paraphrasing."

"Yes, well, they wouldn't be so envious now. Look at us." 

"Yeah, look at us. Each of us is trying to hold on to our anger so we can gain the upper hand, but it's not working, is it?" He leans down to kiss her on the forehead. "Because we love each other too much to hold a grudge." 

"Speak for yourself, Billy."

"Is that why you've got your face buried in my chest? Because you can't stand me?"

"It's not my fault I'm powerless against your scent."

"My scent?" 

"Fine. Your _everything_. Satisfied?" 

"Not quite. We have a great relationship, Mac." he repeats. "And _that's_ what we should be focusing on instead of the one thing that's fucking us over right now." He starts stroking her hair, which is making her even less inclined to move—or to argue. This round definitely goes to Will. As much as she's loath to admit it, he's right: they're at an impasse on this issue, yes, but everything else they have together is gold.

She's about to say so, but he stupidly keeps talking. "I mean, what do other couples do when they're at an impasse? Do they break up? Do they shoot everything all to hell because one of them doesn't get their way?"

She raises herself on one elbow to stare down at him. "Did you seriously just say that? I was prepared to let bygones be bygones but you had to say that." She rests her hand on his chest, thinking. He's wearing a cashmere sweater she bought him right before they broke up and it's soft and warm and she wishes they weren't embroiled in a nasty argument because the biggest part of her would like nothing more than to slide her fingers under the damned thing and caress his hot skin. But they are arguing, so she keeps her fingers on the outside. "You think I'm shooting everything all to hell because I didn't get my way? As if I'm a wayward child who's too immature to focus on what's important? I'd say " _Fuck you, Will,"_ but I won't because ... oh, that's right. You. won't. let. me." She flops back down on the bed. 

"I wasn't saying ‘you’ in particular. I was speaking hypothetically." 

"Rhetorically." 

"Whatever. Let me ask you something, Kenz," he says. "Why am I always the one who has to fall on my sword to get things back on track? I don't see you doing it for me." 

She gives a derisive laugh. "When the fuck have you ever fallen on your sword?"

"Uh, when I let you talk me into getting back together, when I came in here just now to fix things, when I cancelled that goddamned appointment, when I apologized for not talking to you about it first. Need I say more? All you've done is put your ring back on. Don't get me wrong—I'm eternally grateful," he says sarcastically, "but you should never have taken it off in the first place. I don't see you trying to understand why I'm petrified of getting you pregnant, or why it upsets me when you take off your ring like it's nothing." 

"Because I'm not the one in the wrong here, Will. _You_ are."

He gets off the bed, angry all over again.

"Why? Because I don't want you to _die_? You know what, Hon? Let's just do it. Let's have unprotected sex. Let's risk _everything_. If Rebecca has to grow up without a mother, at least you'll have had your nine months of pregnant bliss. And if I have to spend the rest of my life mourning you, well, I guess that's just my tough luck. At least you'll have gotten what _you_ wanted."

"Fuck you, Will," she says, raising herself on one elbow so she can watch him pace around the room. "That's _not_ what this is about."

"That's _exactly_ what this is about. I don't want to lose you, MacKenzie! Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"You won't lose me _."_

"You don't know that."

She waits a beat. 

Fuck.

He’s right.

She doesn’t know that.

But that doesn’t mean she likes the alternative. 

"You're right. I don't know that. But I hate that using birth control is our only option, Will. I _hate_ it. You're saying we have to use it until I'm too old to conceive. That we have no choice but to have something unnatural between us when we have sex."

"What's the big deal? It's not like you'll be able to feel it."

"God, Will, I'll _know_ it. And that is a huge turn-off."

"So is dying. Besides, it didn't bother you when we were first going out."

"I hadn't fallen in love with you yet. And as soon as we stopped using anything, as soon as I got to have all of you, that's when I knew there was no turning back." 

"Mac, I get it. I do." he says.

"No, you don't, Will. You _don't_. What if it changes the way we feel about each other?"

So much of what she feels for him is bound up in their physical connection. From the moment they'd stopped using birth control, the knowledge that he was giving himself fully to her, at the most elemental level, was not only a huge turn-on but proof positive of the depth of his feelings for her. Can she give that up? She doesn't want to. She doesn't _want_ to spend the rest of her reproductive years living with half-measures, with only having part of him. Maybe it's childish but there _has_ to be some other way. 

"Are you serious?” he says incredulously. “I love having unprotected sex as much as you do but that has nothing to do with how I feel about you." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" he says indignantly. "I can't believe you're not. Are you saying you're going to stop loving me if we use birth control?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I could never stop loving you. It's just ..." she fumbles for the right words. "Doing it the way ... nature ... _intended_ , I guess ... well … it means a lot to me." 

His expression softens. "It means a lot to me, too, Kenz," he says, lying down next to her again and pulling her close. "Because it's thrilling, right? Knowing there's nothing between us? That anything can happen, that it's just you, me and fate?"

"Yes. but that's not quite it." She hesitates. Not because she doesn't know what to say but because she's afraid it will invite his derision. In the end, she decides to speak plainly because this is what's at the bottom of it all and maybe, if he knows how much it means to her, they can find a solution together.

"I know it sounds asinine, Will, but don't you ever wonder why it means so much to me to watch you come?" She raises herself on one elbow so she can see his expression and she's relieved to find it's wide open. He's listening, just waiting for her to come out with it. "It's partly because I get to see the real you," she says, extending a finger to caress his cheek. "...completely naked and completely without artifice, but it's also because in that same moment you are giving yourself completely to me. You're literally giving me your essence." She stops, embarrassed. "It's a gift," she says sheepishly. "... and I love the fact that I am the only person in the world who ever has or ever will receive that gift. I want to receive it as nature intended."

He gets that. At the end of the day, though, the 24 hours he spent in abject terror, wondering if she would live or die, compels him to take the long view.

"Honey, I get it." he says, trailing a finger up her arm. "But that's - what - 30 seconds out of the day?" 

"It's not just 30 seconds, Will. It carries me through. The knowledge that you are willing to give yourself to me and me alone is profoundly ... reassuring, I guess. I know how ridiculous it sounds, I _know_ it. But that's the way I feel." 

"I understand. But doesn't everything else I do during the other 23 hours, 59 minutes and 30 seconds of the day prove that I've given myself to you completely?"

"I suppose."

"Mac," he says, turning on his side to face her. "I love you, I love having unprotected sex with you every bit as much as you love having it with me and for all the same reasons, but it's just not worth the risk. The day Rebecca was born was the worst day of my life. Not because of her but because of you. I can't go through that again." 

She's suddenly exhausted. They're not going to figure this out tonight and the baby's going to be up in an hour.

"Okay," she says. "This is me falling on my sword. I wasn't in the waiting room with you so I can't say I truly understand how petrified you were but Harriet and Liv told me how terrible it was, so I shouldn't have trivialized your feelings. And I know how important it is to you that I wear your ring so I'll admit that maybe, _maybe_ I took it off a little too cavalierly. The bottom line," she continues, "is that this fucking disaster of an evening began with a simple desire, which was to make love to you face-to-face, because God, Will, I have _missed_ it. I know we've been doing other things during the last few weeks but it's not the same and I've been looking forward to it for weeks - well, ever since we broke up, truthfully, and I just ... I just want you so badly right now I could cry."

"I've missed it, too," he says. "Believe me. I've been fantasizing about it for weeks. But we haven't even tried using birth control since we stopped using it in the first place. Maybe it won't be as awful as you think. Who knows? Maybe it's not the unprotected part that does it for you. Maybe it's just the fact of you and me. Either way, until we figure it out, we can do other stuff," he says, bending down to kiss her.

"I don't want to do other stuff. I mean, we can, on the side, but I don't want that to be the main event." He looks at her blankly. "God, Will, do I have to say it? Fine. I just want you to fuck me. I want you in me, on top of me and out of control. That's what I need. That's the only thing that will get rid of the ache."

He's instantly hard. That image, of MacKenzie splayed out beneath him as he strokes into her, her face flushed and eyes full of desire is enough to make him want to throw caution to the winds. "Jesus, Mac. Did you have to put that image into my head? My dick is hard as steel now and we don't have any birth control that's 100% effective." 

"I have a diaphragm, which is 90% effective. We can use spermicide to make up another 6%, which just leaves 4%."

"Honey, I've seen your diaphragm and there's no fucking way that thing is 90% effective. Haven't you had it since Clinton was in office?"

"Then wear a condom on top of that. That'll bring it up to 99.88%. If I can't have you inside me bare, I'll settle for having you inside me, period. Please, Will. I need you. We can talk about the rest later."

"I threw out all my condoms, remember?"

"Fuck. Wait. Maybe ... let me see." She reaches across him to her bedside table and grabs the bag the receptionist handed her as she was leaving the doctor's office. It contains three pamphlets: one on nursing and the other two on STDs and HIV. She fishes around the bottom of the bag and lo and behold, she finds three condoms. She holds them up and looks at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

"Please?" she asks. 

It's not perfect, but he has zero self-control where she's concerned, and frankly what he needs, more than anything else at this moment is to reaffirm their connection to one another. 

"With the diaphragm and spermicide? Yeah." 

"I'll go put it in," she says reluctantly.

"I can help."

"Okay." 

She brings them out, and she's _naked_ for Christ's sake, and he tries to keep it together while he puts the spermicide on the diaphragm. She settles back on the bed, legs spread wide, and he kneels between them and presses his mouth against the inside of her knee, dragging his lips all the way up her inner thigh. He plays with her clit as he inserts the diaphragm then curls his fingers inside her and goes down on her. He presses and strokes, presses and strokes with his fingers while simultaneously nibbling on her until she's bucking against his face and crying out and when he finally takes her over the edge she grabs his pillow and screams into it. Breathing heavily, she lifts her head to look at him. He can't help but grin and she'll allow him his moment of pride because goddamn does he know what he's doing in that department.

She reaches down and grabs his shoulders to drag him up her body and he takes an engorged nipple in his mouth as he clambers up, making her moan. When he suckles gently, he's rewarded with a mouthful of milk that tastes like it's left over from a bowl of sugared cereal. He doesn't want to deprive his child, so he pulls back, letting her nipple pop out of his mouth. He finishes his ascent and they stare at each other. She breaks the silence with a tentative, "Hi" as she reaches up to brush his hair back from his forehead. 

"Hi," he answers. The word gets caught in his throat because he feels so much for her it's impossible to play it cool or even lukewarm. Just like it's impossible to resist the gravitational pull she emits, which is why he finds himself leaning down to press his lips against hers. As he does, he feels much of the tension leave his body because no matter what else is happening between them, this is - and has always been - right.

"Are we okay?" he asks. 

"I can't stay mad at you, Will. I love you too much. You know that, don't you? I'm sorry I took off my ring. There are better ways to prove a point."

"Apology accepted," he says, kissing her. 

She can feel him hot and hard against her so she moves her hips, forcing him to drag himself across her clit. She's so wet and he's so close to being inside her that he just wants to say the hell with the consequences and plunge into her. 

"Fuck, Mac. You're not making this easy. I just want to ..." 

"What?" 

"Do exactly what I just spent the last two hours arguing against. I'm not going to be able to control myself much longer," he says, involuntarily rubbing against her. "Give me the goddamned condom." 

She grabs it off the table, tears open the wrapper and starts to unroll it for him but he grabs it from her impatiently. He's had much more practice than she has and there's no time for fumbling around. Not now. Not the way she's looking at him. "No time, honey." He quickly unrolls it, puts it on and settles back down between her legs. 

The connection between them, that extraordinary connection between them, starts to build before he's even inside her and as he finally slides home, they both groan in relief. He never stops staring at her and as he does, every bit of the crap from the last couple of hours disappears. That ridiculous refrain starts in his head again, the one that won't shut up until he's finished: _"I love you, I love you, I love you."_ He doesn't say it aloud just yet, trying to hold off until she comes, but he does love her. Oh, how he loves her. 

She loves him, too. Not just because he's him or the way he makes her feel but the way he's looking at her now, eyes soft and warm and full of lust and affection. She can see she has his whole heart and he absolutely has all of hers, so she guesses they're even. She grabs his head and as he hits her in precisely the right spot she whimpers into his mouth. 

"God, I love you, Billy," she says, and he continues to stroke, hitting her sweet spot every single time, ratcheting her pleasure higher and higher and she wraps her legs around his waist and grabs his ass to force him more deeply inside her.

"I love you, too, Kenz," he breathes, and the telltale tingling in his spine tells him he's about to lose it. She feels too good, this feels too good, even through the latex, being able to stare into her eyes feels too good and just fuck, _fuck_. He tries to hold off, to wait for her, but it's impossible. His emotions are too high and the way she's looking at him, the way her lips part when she moans, fuck, fuck, it's too much. "I can't hold it, honey," he says, "I can't, I can't, you feel too good, I feel too much, fuck."

She doesn't care—she's still coming down from her own climax and the feeling of having him inside her, of being able to look into his eyes as he drives into her is enough. "It's okay, honey, let me see you come." It's not enough for him, though, because he needs to see her dissolve in ecstasy, so he starts thinking of baseball statistics and anything else he can possibly think of to stave off the inevitable. He manages to get his fingers between them and she's closer than she thought because suddenly she's tumbling over the edge. He kisses her soulfully as she comes, and she whimpers into his mouth. "I love you. I love you." _He's right_ , she thinks. It isn't just the unprotected sex part that gets her off. It's the very fact of her and him. She loves him so much it's a physical ache. He gives in then - he can't help it - and then he's shoving into her as hard as he can, erupting, seeing stars and crying out, "I love you, I love you, oh God, I love you, Mac."

He collapses on top of her and buries his face in her neck. She strokes his back, relishing having all of his weight on her, pressing her down into the mattress. Sometimes she loves this moment more than the act itself because it's fulfilling in a way nothing else ever has been. He belongs to her and she belongs to him. Completely. She's thoroughly wrung out and thoroughly content and she can't help thinking she's the luckiest woman in the world to have found this connection. 

He deals with the condom and they drift off to sleep. The baby wakes up an hour later and when MacKenzie starts to get up Will tugs her back down. "I'll go, honey. Go back to sleep." She does, gratefully.

He tugs on his boxers and goes to tend to their daughter. After he changes her, he brings her out to the kitchen where he gets a bottle from the fridge and when he settles her in his arms, there's just enough ambient light from the street to allow him to let him study her face. She looks more and more like MacKenzie every day, and he's unprincipled enough to note there's nary a trace of Brian Brenner in her. Rebecca is a perfect McHale-McAvoy hybrid.

When MacKenzie emerges a few hours later, she finds Will and the baby asleep on the couch, the baby nestled in his arms. She gently picks her up and nudges Will. "Go back to bed, Billy, it's Saturday. Sleep as long as you can." "Are you sure?" "Yes. I'll be in when the baby has her nap."

He stumbles back to bed and is asleep practically before his head hits the pillow. MacKenzie gets dressed, has breakfast and feeds and dresses the baby. Then they head outside, the sounds of the street jarring her senses. She's back a couple of hours later, carrying one tiny bag and another large one, along with a huge breakfast from Will's favorite diner around the corner. 

Will's still asleep but she knows he'll have trouble falling asleep tonight if he sleeps much longer, so she settles the baby in her baby seat and sets to work. She plucks a few flowers from the bouquet on the dining table, cuts the stems and places them in a delicate glass vase she finds in the cupboard. She makes him coffee, arranges his breakfast on a plate and reheats it, then puts everything on a wooden tray and carries it into the bedroom. 

She sets the tray on the dresser, goes back to collect the baby and bags and puts the baby seat on the floor near her side of the bed. Then she places the smaller of the two bags in the drawer in her bedside table and carefully climbs in next to him, brushing a kiss across his forehead as she does.

"Billy," she whispers. "Wake up." He doesn't respond, so she nuzzles his ear. "Billy, wake _up_. You won't sleep tonight if you don't."

"Mmmmh, Kenz," he says, turning toward her. He bends his head in the direction of her kiss but his eyes are still closed so his own kiss lands on her chin. "Lift your head, you goose," she admonishes him. He opens one eye and gives her a sleepy grin. "'Morning, Sweetheart," he says and presses his lips against hers.

"Good morning," she says, ruffling his hair. "Sit up, Love. I brought you breakfast."

"The baby asleep?" he says, struggling to sit up.

"No, she's right here and she's starting to fuss, so work your magic and talk to her while I have a shower." 

MacKenzie puts the seat on the bed beside him. "Hello, baby girl," he says. The baby immediately stops fussing and stares at him and he can't help grinning smugly at MacKenzie.

"You do have a way with the ladies, Will. Eat your breakfast."  

"Thanks, Mac," he says, surveying the spread. "You went to Michael's? Thanks - I'm starved but you didn't have to go to so much trouble -" 

"It's no trouble, Will. I love you. Eat." 

"What about you?" 

"I ate earlier." 

MacKenzie heads to the shower and Will alternates between eating breakfast and talking to the baby about a script he's writing for Monday. He's just finished eating when MacKenzie comes out of the bath wearing his oversized bathrobe. The baby is fussing and Will says, "I think she might be hungry."

"I'll feed her," she says, dropping the robe to the floor. He's instantly hard and he gives himself a mental kick ( _What kind of man gets a hard-on at the sight of his fiancée about to breastfeed?_ he thinks. His kind, apparently.) MacKenzie brings their daughter to her breast and snuggles against him.

He can't believe how much his life has changed in the last six weeks, and he could not be more grateful. He has a family now, and he has it with the only woman he has ever loved. He gets to go to bed with her and wake up with her and build this family with her and he gets to do it every day for the rest of his life. Nothing else matters now. Nothing. Nothing except protecting this little cocoon they're building together.

"Think the baby will want to sleep after she eats?" he says, unable to stop thinking about the fact that MacKenzie is pressed up against him, naked, no less.

"Probably. Did you want to do something?" she says, casually sliding her hand against his erection.

"Yeah. You."

"You're in luck, Billy," she says, reaching down to the floor and bringing up the bag she brought into the room and dropping it on Will's legs.

"What's this?"

"Look."

He opens the bag and sees three boxes of his brand of condoms, lube, four boxes of The Sponge and spermicide.

"This'll hold us until we figure out what we're going to do," she says.

"God, I love you," he says, kissing her. He puts his breakfast tray down on the bed and snuggles up next to her and the baby. "So ... last night ..." he says, propping himself on one elbow. "How was it? Did you … hate it?"

"No ... there was maybe a little too much friction ..."

"Because we forgot the lube?" 

"I think so ... and I missed knowing you were giving yourself to me but .... you gave me other kinds of gifts, so I'll try to be open-minded. How about you?"

"Sensation-wise, there's a definite difference - it's much better the other way - but I could feel enough to get off, obviously. I think at least half of it is mental. Sometimes just looking at you nearly makes me come." 

"Only 'nearly'?" 

"You'd be surprised." He debates whether to tell her something embarrassing. She'll either think he's insane or be flattered. Hopefully the latter. Oh, fuck it, he thinks to himself. They're going to be married soon and it's not like she doesn't know he's had a hard-on for her since the moment he met her. He gives her a dirty grin.

"What are you grinning about?" 

"I'm going to admit something to you and you're not going to tease me about it, okay?"

"Will, you know I can't promise that. If you tell me something tease-worthy I'm afraid I have no choice."

"Suit yourself." He turns away and pretends to busy himself with the newspaper she brought in with his breakfast.

"Oh, come on, you have to tell me. I'll try not to tease you."

"Not good enough."

"Fine!" she says in exasperation. "I _won't_ tease you. What is it?" 

He gives her a saucy grin. "Before we got together, before you agreed to go out with me ... whenever I knew I was going to have a meeting with you, I'd ..."

"You'd what?"

"I'd go in my bathroom and jerk off so I didn't come in my pants when you started talking to me in that sexy accent of yours."

"Why am I only hearing about this now? 

"I was embarrassed."

She's intrigued. "How often did it happen, Billy?"

"Every day." 

She looks at him, disbelieving. "We didn't start dating until I'd been EP'ing your show for four months. We had sex a month later. You're telling me you jerked off in your bathroom five days a week for five months?" 

"Sometimes twice a day. Yeah. Honestly, it's the only I could keep my head in the game. Otherwise, you'd be talking and I wouldn't be listening because all I could think of was how much I wanted to bend you over the conference table."

She laughs. "Wow. I wish you'd have told me, Billy. I'd have helped you out with that. We could have gone into your bathroom together." 

"What do you mean? You told me you weren't ready to get involved with anyone after you broke up with that asshole." 

"Doesn't mean I wasn't attracted to you. Or didn't _want_ you to bend me over the conference table." She looks at him coyly. "I had to take several bathroom breaks myself." 

"No way. You did not." He looks at her hopefully. "Did you?" 

"I did."

"At work?"

"No, at Starbucks, you simpleton. Of course at work." 

She can't be serious. "Where?" he says, his eyes glittering. He _loves_ this. 

"In the handicapped bathroom near the elevators."

"How the fuck did you do it?"

"I sat down, leaned back and thought of you." 

"Fuck, Mac. Are you serious?" 

"Deadly." 

"How often?"

"Once or twice a week. I usually waited until I got home but sometimes it was unbearable and I couldn't wait that long." 

"When? When was it unbearable?"

"I'd catch you staring at me and I'd start thinking about how gorgeous you were and even though you were a grumpy old man you'd said enough lovely things to me that I fancied you were quite good in the bedroom. And really, Will, my fantasies didn't do you justice." 

The thought that she was doing the same thing he was, quite possibly at the same time, is not doing anything to solve the problem of his erection.

"I need to be inside you, Mac. Can we leave the baby in her seat while we go into the bathroom? We can keep the door ajar in case she starts crying."

"You want to do me in the bathroom?"

"I'll do you anywhere but right now the bathroom affords a little more privacy. I don't really want to do it in front of her." 

"She's sleepy, Will. I'll go put her down and meet you back here."

She does and when she climbs into bed next to him, he pulls her close. “I love you, Kenz,” he says, kissing her. She gives him a wide, loopy grin. “I love you, too.” 

\------ 

Afterwards, she lies in his arms, thoroughly sated and thoroughly happy. She turns her head to look at him and sees he’s just staring at her, her expression mirrored in his own. _Now's as good a time as any_ , she thinks, and turns over to open the drawer to her bedside table.

She removes the small bag and empties it into her palm. The box is small and solid in her hand and she closes her fingers over it as she turns over to face him. "I picked something else up while I was out,” she says, opening her fingers so he can see the Tiffany box in her hand. “I ordered it a couple of weeks ago and it came in yesterday. Ironically.” He looks at her as she opens the box and sees a silver band the same color as her engagement ring. "It's the other half of the set.” 

He looks at her. "For me?"

Tears prick at her eyes. "For you. Remember when we were at that AWM thing a couple of weeks ago? There was a woman flirting with you - the blonde? - I was jealous because I thought you were being a little too friendly with her. But I happened to glance down at my hand and I saw my ring. And then I remembered the look in your eyes when you gave it to me. I'll never forget that look for as long as I live. Your eyes were soft and beautiful and so loving and I had no doubt about what you felt for me. So even though I was annoyed because she was flirting with you, I felt reassured. Because the ring reminded me that without a doubt that you love _me_."

She takes his hand. "I'd find myself looking at it while you were at work, kind of daydreaming, I guess, and it was such a comfort. I want you to have that, too, Will. I know you'll have your wedding ring but that’s a few months off, so in the meantime, I wanted you to be able to look down whenever we're apart and remember how much I love you. Because I do, so much." she says, her voice cracking. "For the rest of my life, I promise to love you and take care of you and do my best to make you happy. You are my best friend and soul mate. I love you, Will. Will you accept my ring?"

He's got tears in his eyes, too. He's so touched she'd want to do this for him. He's too moved to speak. He can only nod. She slips the ring on his finger and kisses him soundly. 

He puts his hand against hers and they admire the rings side-by-side. It’s a perfect match.

Just as they are.

 

 

 

THE END.


End file.
